A Universally Accepted Fact
by Ripper101
Summary: Sequel to 'Bond of Sun and Moon', 'Cosmic Equation' and 'Time without Dawns or Dusks'. Usual warnings for a dark fic angst, slash, mpreg, rape, and now children! Be warned: this contains adult situations.
1. Ten Years Later

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the world they hail from. Those belong to the various rich people who can afford lawyers.

Pairing: Pretty obvious by now! Jareth/ Toby slash.

Author's Note: Oh God! We're finally on the last fiction of the series! I feel so... sad. But do not cry, sweet readers, for we have two pig-headed people who still need to be reminded of how they got three beautiful children in the first place. As the title says, it is now TEN YEARS AFTER the last fic ended.

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"Dad, it's not fair!"

Toby looked up from his sketchpad and almost smiled. His son was standing in the centre of the room in a fine temper, two angry spots of colour on his sharp cheekbones, his blue eyes snapping with fire. Toby raised an eyebrow at the tall, dark-haired male standing in the doorway. "Well, Fiorle? How have you insulted Prince Aidan this time?"

Fiorle came in with a laugh and ruffled the boy's hair as he passed, shoving Toby's feet off the second chair to sit down. "Not at all, my Lord," he grinned back, "Prince Aidan merely wanted to ride the stallion."

Toby nodded and turned back to the infuriated Prince still standing there. "Aidan, you know you can't ride that stallion yet; Fiorle hasn't tamed him. Besides, he's far too big for you."

"I can ride him," Aidan insisted obstinately.

"No, you can't," Toby said firmly.

"It's not fair!"

Blue eyes looked to blue eyes. "And we both know what your father would say about that, don't we?" Toby said gently. Aidan looked instantly chastised, anger draining away almost at the very mention of his father. Toby studied that phenomenon eagerly, pondering it with narrowed eyes. It had been happening far too often lately. "Aidan, is there something you want to talk about?"

"No..."

Fiorle obligingly rose and made to leave the room on his own accord. He didn't want to intrude. It was rare that Aidan spent any mornings with his dad and the fae knew just how much Toby wanted to get to the bottom of the problem.

"You know, if there's something bothering you, then I want to help," Toby murmured, putting his sketchpad on the desk and turning to offer his hand and a seat, "You've not looked very happy for days now, love."

"Don't call me that." The gripe was half-hearted at best. Aidan sat down and twisted his hands nervously in his lap, a gesture he had picked up from his dad naturally because his father would never show discomfort in another's presence, oh no!

Toby took the opportunity to really study his son, searching the pale skin with his eyes for hidden bruises or dark shadows on the sculptured features. They were very fine features, too. Not quite like Jareth, but then nothing like him either. Apparently Toby's grandmother had looked a lot like that. Aidan was all of fifteen now, and would be sixteen in a short time. Mostly a man, though more vulnerable at fifteen than any of the mortals Toby remembered.

"I am not a child."

Toby blinked. That was it? "You're not, no. Why? Do you feel you are treated as one?"

Aidan shrugged. "Not you so much. I wish you would let me ride the stallion though." He looked up pleadingly but didn't expect his dad to take the hint. Toby didn't. "Well, mostly Father- he doesn't seem to realize that I'm only eleven months younger than Arradine. He treats her like a grown-up. Why not me?"

Ah, Toby sighed internally, the enigma of Jareth the Goblin King. He wouldn't know though; he hadn't seen Jareth in person for over a year. "Aidan, you are still only fifteen. Arradine has reached her sixteenth year. And- terrible though it sounds- your father has to treat her like an adult because she is the heir. She needs to learn how to run the Kingdom."

Aidan snorted derisively. "Father will outlive us all," he snapped, "I sometimes wonder if he's a vampire. He never seems to change at all!"

"Aidan!" Toby was not accustomed to such venom from the young immortal. Aidan tended to be the most gentle out of all of them.

Arradine was a little lady with a short temper and too much energy. She was Jareth in a nutshell with her impulsive dash from one end of the Castle to the other, and the arguments! Toby could hear them all the way up in his room. After the one on her fourteenth birthday, he had flatly refused to involve himself again. It didn't help Arradine's case that she had as sharp a tongue as her father and a sense of self just as enormous.

Aidan, on the other hand, was surprisingly reserved. He didn't seem to speak much or volunteer to meet people he didn't know. He tended to secrecy and for some reason Toby suspected that he didn't quite like being noticed. But for all that he was proud and just as arrogant as Arradine. The pair of them had once faced down a troll from the plains and glared it into confusion until Jareth had found them and whisked them both away. That was one time Toby had thought the Goblin King would really spank his children.

And then Ereditha... what could one say about his third and most voluble child? She was sunshine! She never stopped smiling, she never stopped laughing, she was always chattering until someone eventually asked her to please let them get a word in edge-wise. And then she would just look at them with summer sky blue eyes, all bewildered innocence and adorable confusion. Adorable nothing! His little Red was a fraud if he'd ever seen one! She loved to get her own way and since Toby and Jareth were the only ones seemingly inured to her trickery, she was on the fine line between blessed and spoilt.

"Dad, are you even listening to me? Perhaps I should return when you have stopped dreaming quite so much," Aidan called, leaning forward to wave a hand over Toby's face.

Strong fingers shot up and grabbed his hand by the wrist and Toby smiled. "Your reflexes are not as good as they should be, Aidan."

Aidan squirmed. "But I wasn't ready. You can't just grab me like that! It's not fair..." he stilled and turned pink, "All right, I understand."

Toby let go and watched his ruffled offspring smooth his feathers down. It was quite amusing, really. With Aidan, there were only two things to know to keep him in line- his complete dislike of doing something to dishonour his family, and his absolute adoration of his father. "So what has the Goblin King done to frustrate you this time?"

"Nothing. I am not frustrated. I only wish he would stop treating me as if I were ten."

'_He needs a childhood... I will not hide him in a treasure chest, but I will protect him from growing old too soon..._'

Toby remembered that conversation; just one of many in which Jareth had refused his pleas to let the kids travel with him through the kingdom.

"Aidan, you know why he does that, don't you?" Aidan shrugged again, eyes firmly to the floor. "At the risk of sounding like a complete sap, your father does love you. He only wants to let you enjoy your life while there is still time. Arradine cannot do that because there is much she needs to learn, but you can. And he wants that for you. Maybe if you tell me what sparked off this tirade? It wasn't just the stallion, was it?"

Aidan went red. "It- it was the stallion," he admitted slowly, "Father spent a lot of time with it last evening. It seems he is a- a close friend, a horse friend who came to Father for help. He forbade me to ride him."

"Oh." Now how had that escaped them? This black stallion had come barrelling into their stables like the hounds of hell were nipping at its heels and after several unsuccessful attempts to set it free, Toby and Fiorle had decided to keep it. Only to find that it didn't want to be tamed at all. No one knew what the bloody thing wanted. It seemed it had wanted his bond mate. "Hopefully, it will leave then. We really don't have the space for it."

Aidan sat back and nodded absently while the mortal picked up the sketchpad again, completing a brief preliminary sketch of a painting he was planning. It looked pretty good. Perhaps a little too mystical, but that was only because mortals seemed to like it that way. His dad would send it to his Aunt Sarah, who would sell it and then the money was split between the two. It provided what his Dad called 'a little nest egg' for both families. "So I suppose you won't let me ride him either?"

"Your Father? You'll have to ask him that," Toby smirked, "I'm sure he'll take precious time away from his Labyrinth to turn into a horse so you can practise racing him."

Aidan gurgled and stood up, stretching cat-like and long before making his graceful way to the door. "I'll just go tell him your suggestion, then. I'm sure he will do it in a snap."

Toby grinned for the sake of his son but they both knew too well that the joke would fall sadly flat. The Goblin King and his consort were as far separated from each other as the Castle would allow. Toby occupied a beautifully appointed suite of room somewhere in the opposite direction of the Royal suite, and his children's rooms were placed with him. They never spoke; they never met. The bond had been denied to the point where neither felt it any more. And even if Aidan was too young to hear the rumours, Toby wasn't; Jareth had apparently taken other lovers during the ten years they'd spent apart. The marriage was as over as it could get.

Aidan left quietly, knowing Toby needed to be left alone when that particular look came to his eyes. But not before warning Fiorle in a low undertone of the situation that the fairy was walking into. Fiorle nodded understandingly but entered in any case, shutting the door and leaning against it as he gazed at his friend and Lord.

Toby looked up ruefully. "I never get him out of my head, do I?"

"It is never easy when you love someone."

Toby considered that statement. He wouldn't delude himself that he wasn't still in love. But love wasn't always enough. "You say you've never been in love, so how would you know?"

The dark-skinned fae with his dark hair and deep brown eyes smiled cheekily. "Must I tell you about Druimerk again? Or the love of the beauteous Nirmorgan for her darling Verdos? Honestly! Are you a man or a youth that you still sigh over love stories?"

"I do not," Toby protested, "But if you could tell it to me again... I like the sword fight in the middle. And the boat chase across the Sea."

"And the love scenes at the beginning, middle and end?" Fiorle teased.

Toby had the grace to blush furiously. "So I like it," he growled defiantly, "So what? I'm not exactly getting champagne and roses up here, am I? Nice to know someone else can have a happy ending."

Fiorle sobered slightly, knowing that Toby was not upset by being pushed to this admission, but also knowing it would sadden his spirits. He hadn't expected to find much in common with a mortal when he had first accepted the Goblin King's offer of a job, but the small golden creature he had been presented to was a fine friend through the years.

He opened his mouth. "It began, my Lord, when Nirmorgan rode out one day on a noble steed..."


	2. Not Boredom

Author's Note: I was in a really weird mood when I wrote this, so it reads in a really weird way. I'm actually quite surprised; it's almost funny. Though maybe I just have a terrible sense of humour. Anyway, it is meant to be a portrayal of how they relate together, ten years into being apart.

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"I offer you your dreams," Jareth sighed, "Take the damned thing and just forget him."

"No," Norma said stubbornly, "I never meant to wish Nigel away and you know that. I was only angry! But I want him back now, so if you'll just be so kind as to hand him over."

Jareth suppressed a groan with great difficulty. He was really too tired for this. And God help him, he had got one of the fighters. Of all the days in time, he had to get a proper challenger on the one day he really didn't feel up to it. He flicked away the crystal and reached out an impatient hand, grabbing the front of her sweater and hauling her close.

"Do you think you can beat me, girl?" he snarled, "I would advise you to rethink that decision. Come now; take my offer and leave me your young man. You do not want to try my Labyrinth. It is far too dangerous for you."

"Look, he is not my young man," she hissed back, "And no, I will not rethink my decision. If I can run away all the way to London at the age of fifteen and live on my own, I can beat any silly little maze you point me at. And goblins don't scare me."

"They should," Jareth smiled, allowing her a glimpse of sharp white fangs before he dropped her with an unceremonious thud.

Norma squeaked as she sat down far too suddenly on warm brown sand, spluttering as the fine grains rose up in a light cloud and coated her. She briefly considered biting the nearest ankle. But the leather boots looked too thick to give beneath her teeth so she contented herself with standing up and glaring at him.

The Goblin King was standing still for a moment, looking extraordinarily pale, a hand pressed to his mouth and nose as if he were trying not to breathe something. She could barely see him breath any more.

"You ill?" she asked, tapping him on the shoulder.

Jareth dropped his hand and lifted his chin, his eyes daring her to feel concerned on pain of his wrath. "I think we should discuss your options again," he said silkily, "That is my Labyrinth."

Norma gasped and paled. "It- it doesn't look too impressive," she muttered, trying not to notice how big it was.

Jareth leaned against her and lowered his head to her ear. "That, my dear, is because you are not inside it yet. Find your way in. Find your way through. And find your way to my Castle at the centre where your young man awaits you."

"He's not..."

"And do it in thirteen hours," he interrupted, vanishing away into thin air.

Norma blinked at the spot where he had been standing, the weird man with the tight clothes and red-backed black cape. Sure, capes were back in fashion, but no one wore tights and poet shirts any more. But then this was another realm and... the Labyrinth. "I guess I should start where all good stories start- at the beginning," she mocked, walking down the steep embankment to the outer wall before her.

Nothing. No door, no tunnel, no passageway... her knuckles were scraped raw from trying to find a secret brick to push or something and the damned clock behind her was ticking with that dire countdown of time that reminded her she didn't have that long. "Will you just open?" she growled, punching the wall.

Her fist went right through. She stared blankly at the wall for a second and then pushed a little. The rest of her arm went through. But she'd knocked on this section just moments ago, and it had been pure stone! What was going on?

"Are you going to stand there all day, then?" a voice said.

Norma snapped her brown head up to look at the dwarf child currently grinning at her. "Who- who are you?" she asked, quivering a little. Dwarfs were meant to be nice people, weren't they? Sure, they didn't grant wishes like fairies, but they still didn't massacre girls trying to get into a Labyrinth, did they?

"You know, if you wants to get into the Labyrinth, you has to actually step inside," the dwarf pointed out.

Norma looked to the wall again and moved her foot. Her body slid through like butter. It was actually a really nice feeling, as if nothing could stop her from getting to where she wanted to go. She happily walked to the next wall, but wasn't too surprised when it blocked her with real stone.

"You think every wall's going to open for you?" That dwarf again! What did he want?

"No, I don't," Norma pouted, "But I'll thank you to remember that I've never been through this Labyrinth before. I don't know what to expect. Especially with that queer old pansy in charge of it."

"Pansy?" the dwarf looked astonished, "Cor, where'd you see a talking flower? My old dad would love it!"

"Not the flower; the guy with the ruffled clothing and freaky hair! The Goblin King."

"The King is a flower? My old dad never said!"

"He's not a flower," Norma sighed. She looked up and down the passageway. "Which way do I go?"

"My old dad..."

"Never mind your old dad, which way should I go?"

Jareth chuckled as he watched it in his crystals. What a bit of luck that Heggle had sent his son instead of him. The young dwarf was old enough at eight years old- seeing as how dwarves matured much faster than any other creature- and as an adult seemed quite proud of his new position as the Labyrinth's gatekeeper. But trust Wellis to be too proud to answer a proper question! The girl was so frustrated that he didn't feel quite so ill any more.

Wellis scratched his head and looked cautiously from left to right. Then he looked up to the frustrated grey eyes of his questioner. "You goes where you wants," he said, shrugging his stubby arms, "It all depends, don't it, on where you wants to end up."

Norma took a deep breath and told herself that it would not be a good idea to drop a rock on the poor thing's head. It was probably Pansy's fault anyway. "I wants- er, want- to end up at the Castle at the centre of the Labyrinth. Preferably before my thirteen hours are up. Bonus points if you tell me what happens when I get there."

Willis considered all three desires. He held up three fingers and started with the first one. "One, I can't tells you the way to the Castle. It ain't right, for me or you. Two, I can helps you find the way there before your time is up, but it's tricksy. Three, when you gets there, you'll have to fight His Majesty."

"Fight? What, with swords or something? He doesn't look the kind to rough-house," Norma remarked, "Though he looks like someone who'd go for your balls in a fight and cut them off without a care in the world. I bet he fights very dirty."

Wellis looked doubtful as to what she wanted him to reply. The Goblin King had never looked dirty to him, but then he'd only seen him once or twice. And the first time had been when he'd been a babe. His mother had packed him up on one of her weekly visits to the Castle and apparently the King had soothed him when he cried. He didn't believe a word, and certainly the King he'd met last year looked more like the kind to eat babies than sooth them.

Jareth was currently twisting on his throne in laughter, laughing so hard that he cried. His head was spinning and he was far too weak for this exertion, but he couldn't make himself stop. The girl was wonderful. She just stood there! There was no compulsion in her, no fearful worry of what everyone would say if she lost. She was just answering a challenge. And Wellis...

The goblins around him stared in confusion as he tossed the crystal into the air and split into ten, all the new ones circling him in a whirling spiral as he laughed helplessly in his stone seat.

"So which way?" Norma asked again.

"I tolds you- your feets has to take you there by yourself. I can't be telling you the way. It ain't how this works!"

"Aargh!" the girl yelped, jumping to her feet and taking off in a huff to the left. Whichever way it took her, at least it took her away from the damn dwarf before she murdered him. The creak of stone stopped her and she jumped around to see... nothing. Sighing in relief, she turned to continue and squeaked.

Jareth grabbed her just before she toppled over and shoved her sweetly against the wall to keep her upright. "There. Now isn't this a terrible way to spend the day?" he murmured, fluttering his eyelashes at her.

She glared at him.

Jareth smirked and sidled closer, putting a subtle swing into his hips. Oh, but he hadn't done this for so long. And with the leather jacket to highlight the curves of his body, well, it just screamed for attention. He almost laughed again as her gaze fell considerably below the neck of his shirt.

"Norma, child?" he cooed. Her eyes snapped back up to his amused face. "Tell me, my dear, why does a girl like you mess with a terrible bore like your boyfriend," Jareth asked, leaning against the wall beside her.

Norma groaned tragically and covered her face with her hands. First, that damned argument; then, the brain-dead dwarf; now, the thickheaded gay man. What was this- a daytime soap opera? "He is not my boyfriend or fiancé or husband or anything," she ground out, "He's my manager." A slanting eyebrow rose with polite enquiry. "I'm a singer. He told me he'd make me a star and, well, I believed him and signed a contract. Just call me doofus."

"I would, but it is so uncivilized," Jareth chuckled, ignoring the growl from his left, "I have offered you your dreams. You want to get rid of this- this manager of yours. My plan works both way."

Norma looked up with hopeless eyes. "He has a family; a wife and two kids. They'll want to know why he hasn't come back and I like Alice. She's been good to me. Even let me eat at her place when Nigel couldn't get me a single booking for six months and I had no money to buy food. I can't just leave them without a husband and father!"

Jareth had stiffened next to her and she noticed, narrowing her eyes at the icy look on his face. "You would be a star," he offered, "Well able to provide for them to appease your guilt."

"Yes, I suppose so. If I wasn't too much of an idealist to hate the very thought of it. Goblin King, do you know what you're asking me to do here? I cannot go back without taking Alice back her husband. I just can't! She loves him."

But Jareth had suddenly raised his head and was looking somewhere else, his attention caught by a movement seen from the corner of his eye. "Stay here," he ordered, moving swiftly and noiselessly down the path.

Norma sighed and gave up, sliding down against the wall, she decided that she would just have to fail or continue. Maybe there was a bargain she could strike with the Goblin King? Maybe he would send Nigel back if she offered to stay in his place? The clock continued to tick in its monotonous, nerve-wracking way and she amused herself by throwing pebbles at it and watching them fly harmlessly through the image.

The sound of something scrabbling down near where her host had gone startled her and she stood up to take a better look. There was a dog bounding towards her. The human part of her brain told her it was kind of sweet that the Goblin King had a dog. The part of her brain interested in self-preservation screamed at her to see that the dog was enormous and slavering and heading straight for her.

She was paralysed, petrified and there was a dog... no, a wolf! It was a fucking wolf!

Something whizzed past her and leapt at it and then there were two wolves, fighting each other with a lot of snapping teeth and yelps and growls and a white tiger padded noiselessly to her side and she was just getting to ready to scream for help when the tiger growled and lunged forward, catching one of the wolves by the scruff of the neck and dragging it out of the melee. The other one just got off its back and stood panting, backing away a little with a low whine its throat.

The white tiger vanished with it's captive and Norma slid once more down against the wall, staring in morbid fascination at the wolf looking at her. The tail wagged and then the blue eyes- curious, that, for a wolf- seemed to roll as if amused with itself and Norma gasped when the animal changed to human form and sat down panting on the ground.

The young man looked her over with quite a lot of interested and took several deep breaths. "Hey," he said, waving a hand, "You okay?"

She said something that might have been 'yes' and might have been 'no' and might have been any combination of the two thereof. No more than five heartbeats later, the Goblin King was back, dressed in a white dress shirt and black pants, snarling as he clamped his hand over a bloodied arm.

He hadn't even noticed her, too busy staring at the other man with a look that said he just might rip someone's throat out with his own teeth. "You bloody fool," he said bracingly.

The man on the ground said nothing but got to his feet and brushed himself off, wincing as he put his ankle to the ground. The ankle had been bitten, Norma remembered. "The girl was in danger. What did you want me to do?"

"I had the situation well in hand."

The youth looked up sceptically, his dark blond brows managing to convey his disbelief in spite of not moving an inch. "So I saw," he drawled, "You let a pack of mountain wolves into the Labyrinth and then exposed a mortal woman to them? The stories must be true."

The Pansy clenched tighter on his bleeding arm and glared. "What stories?" his voice was dangerous enough to cut diamonds.

"The stories that I hear about people dying in your new Labyrinth," the other man snapped, "How can you be so careless, Jareth? Losing, yes- I can understand you leading someone astray, forcing them to lose, whatever you call it. But death? It's not right!"

"On whose say so?" the one called Jareth barked, "Yours? Your ideas on right and wrong are very different to mine, my elf. I believe you know that."

Norma stared with interested at the small, slender golden-haired male nursing a bitten ankle. So there were really elves? He didn't look much like she thought elves were supposed to look. For one thing, his ears weren't pointed. For another, he wasn't particularly graceful, though she had admit hardly anyone could be when trying to stand upright and check an ankle for broken bones.

"My idea of right is to not throw people off roofs when you promised to let them live."

"And mine is to not have affairs behind your husband's back."

Husband? She looked to the golden-haired male again. He was looking uncomfortably at her now, as if he'd just realized she was still there. The Pansy seemed to notice because he turned around and said something in another language; it sounded nasty and the supposed elf glanced sharply at him and shook his head. "If my kids learn those words from you I will have a lot to say," the elf said.

Kids? Husbands and Kids? No wonder the Goblin King has frozen next to her when she'd started spouting off about not wanting to deprive someone of a husband and father. He knew what she was talking about! But those two were married? How was that possible? And Kids! Well, she guessed they probably adopted.

"Will you just accept the damn dreams?" the Goblin King snapped, offering her the crystal again.

She stared longingly at it, seeing herself as a multi-award winning star, signed to the biggest record labels, signing autographs and huge contracts, splurging money and eating at the best restaurants in leather pants and her Sex Pistols t-shirt. "No. Sorry, I can't. I need Nigel back."

Toby was looked from her to the Pansy, a hopeful look on his face. "Why is that?" he asked, addressing her instead.

"He's married and he has kids. I got mad at him when he forgot to finalize a show for me at this club and I wished him away, but Alice- his wife- has been really nice to me and I don't want her to have to fend for herself. He's not much, but she loves him." Norma was pleading now, hands clasped as she did her best impression of the puppy dog eyes. "Please!"

The elf-person looked amused and not the least taken in by her. But there was soft look around his mouth and he jerked his head to the Pansy. "What do you think, Jareth? Can you spare some mercy for this one?"

It was a quiet explosion, rippling through the air without so much as a sound. But in less than two seconds, the golden-haired man was pinned against the stone wall by the neck, the Goblin King's gloved hand threatening to choke the life out of him.

"How dare you," he whispered, "You have read the Rules. You have studied them. You have poured over them and don't say you have not. And you suggest such thing?"

"He has kids, Jareth," the other one growled back, "And a wife. It may not mean much in the Underground, but Aboveground we actually try to promote family! Just because you can't bear the sight of me, doesn't mean that everyone else hates their mates too."

So she'd been right! The Goblin King was a pansy! Though she didn't think he was the kind to bend over for anyone, let alone that slim little thing he was pressing against the wall. She wondered idly if they would forget she was there and just shag each other already. She'd already seen wolves and silly dwarves. She might as well see gay sex.

The hand dropped and the Goblin King stepped away. "Go back to the Castle," he said woodenly, "I will take care of matters as I see fit."

The elf-person looked undecided for a moment and then turned to go.

"And Toby!"

He turned back with something very wildly like hope in his eyes.

"Never enter the Labyrinth again. Not unless you want a collar on that pretty neck of yours."

The elf-person disappeared with a dark look tossed back to his... lover? Husband? Mate? Norma didn't know what they called it, but collar- now that was kinky! She'd had a boyfriend once who'd wanted her to dress up in a school uniform and let him get a look up the too-short skirt. She shuddered. It had not been pleasant.

"You." The Pansy was looking at her with mismatched eyes that blazed in such a way that she feared he would kill her instantly for one wrong move. "I suggest you take the crystal or continue running the Labyrinth. Rabid wolves are the least of the dangers, however, and I would hate to see you killed."

"I won't take the crystal," she said clearly, "But I don't think I'll win either."

Jareth looked very interested suddenly. Most people tried to tell themselves that they would win, hoping it would come true if they wished hard enough. But this child... even Sarah hadn't been this grounded in reality. And Sarah had not had that bargaining looking in her eyes.

"Perhaps we can make a bargain?" he suggested, tapping a gloved hand on the wall as he looked her over, "What can you offer to make me give up Nigel?"

She shrugged. "You could have me, I guess."

The corners of that hard mouth twitched into a sudden smile. "May I?" he purred, moving closer.

Norma jumped back with a disgusted splutter. "You're gay!" she shouted, "Stop looking at me like that."

Jareth really did smile this time, but it wasn't a pleasant smile at all. "I assure you I am not gay," he reasoned, "Bisexual, yes. But not gay." The unpleasant look disappeared somewhat. "Would you like to test me?"

"No! Keep your black leather hands off me, pervert! What I meant was, I'll stay here and take Nigel's place. You can send him back."

Jareth was very impressed. Not many would have agreed to that the few times he had suggested it. Ariadne had been the last and she- she had hated him because she had lived to regret that. She had lived to regret many things in her life. But this child seemed perfectly willing to take the Wished-away's place. It was positively refreshing.

"If I agree," he began slowly, "What may I expect in return?"

She looked disgusted. "You're giving up that really gorgeous elf for me? Does he have genital warts or something that you don't want him?"

"Elf?" Jareth was clearly confused. "What elf?" Oh. That one. "Toby, you mean? Toby is no elf, child. He is a mortal, bound to me through a magical connection that we in the Underground call marriage. If you stay here you will soon be told the tale."

"Not an elf? I knew it! His ears weren't pointed! He's human? Cool. Did he get wished-away too?"

The topic was getting too close to personal for comfort. And Jareth refused to get into a situation where he sat down on the dirt floor of the outer reaches of his Labyrinth and told her the whole sordid tale. For one thing, it was far too clichéd. For another, he wasn't about to discuss it with anyone. "That is a tale for a winter's night. Make your choice: accept your wishes and leave the man; run my Labyrinth and forfeit him when you lose; take his place and let him leave unharmed. Which will it be?"

Norma sighed. She really didn't want to stay here, but at least it seemed interesting. "I'll take his place," she said reluctantly.

Toby watched it in the crystal and sighed, leaning back in his bathtub as he soaked his recent fight out of his bones. Fiorle came in with some clean clothes and smiled at his somewhat sleepy friend.

"Did the mortal live?" the fairy asked, bending to pick up the injured ankle and start to clean it.

Toby hissed at the pain, but nodded. "Jareth actually agreed to let her change places with him." The happiness slipped somewhat. "He propositioned her. She even asked about me and asked why he'd give me up for her. He just said we were married and that was it. Was that what went wrong?"

The Fairy deftly wrapped a linen bandage around the wound and let the ankle rest on the edge of the sunken bath before shaking his head. "Many do find boredom in a life-long commitment. And I am afraid your Gwenél was right- we never swear to be faithful to our partners."

"So Jareth got bored," Toby muttered to himself, "Just like I knew he would be."

"No, I do not think boredom is quite what he feels with you," Fiorle grinned, rubbing experienced fingertips into Toby's calf.

The mortal moaned a little as the taut muscles relaxed and sighed, wriggling happily in hot water. "And how is that?"

"You interfered with his challenger, you ran into the Labyrinth when he had forbidden you time and again, you fought a wolf and almost lost a foot, you provoked him to attack you, you encouraged him to break faith with the Spirit of the Labyrinth and then you sniped at him for cursing you for your inability to stay out of his business. He is far too frustrated to feel bored with you!"


	3. A Crystal Wish

Author's Note: Thanks so much for your positive response to the story. But people seem to be a little confused as to the nature of both previous chapters. Are they really that enigmatic? Must be Jareth's work!

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"Ada, when will..." Toby cast a warning look at Arradine and she realized her mistake instantly. Speaking elvish was not permitted in front of her father. "Dad. Dad, when will Harvey and Cassandra be back from Canada?"

"Probably in a month, why?" Toby asked, casually flirting with the idea of eating. He wasn't very hungry. He never was on the rare occasion that Jareth joined them for dinner.

The Goblin King was not, himself, eating. He was sitting in his chair at the table with his fingers loosely wrapped around the glass he had been drinking from all night, eyelids at half-mast and his eyes glittering at everyone as they spoke in turn.

Usually meals were comfortable and easy-going. Toby didn't mind his children speaking so long as they observed the strict rules not to throw anything or talk with their mouth full. As his mother had always out it, "No dazzling conversation can make up for the sight of a half-chewed piece of dead animal". And he agreed.

"Father showed me where Canada was on the map," Ereditha piped up proudly. Out of all of them, she was the least afraid of Jareth. "And then he painted a picture for me."

Toby swallowed what tasted like dry sawdust and offered Jareth and his daughter a weak smile. "Did he? What picture was it this time?"

Jareth stiffened a little and made some movement of his head as Ereditha looked to him. She seemed to take the hint because she bit at her bottom lip and thought hard. "A cat?" she offered finally.

Arradine hid her face very quickly in the glass of water and tried not to laugh. The lie was so easy she was tempted to challenge her little sister on it. Aidan seemed to be a similar predication and Ereditha stared in confusion at her two older siblings, frowning a little. Arradine only giggled harder, while Aidan gave way to helpless laughter.

Ereditha pouted and looked pleadingly to Toby as a last resort. The mortal swallowed his laughter but shook his head. "Oh no, Red. You're going to have to live with this one. I'm not helping you here."

"Do not worry, little one," Jareth broke in smoothly, "They are only ill-mannered people who don't know how pretty the cat was." He tried not to spoil the comfort by allowing his mouth to twitch into a gentle smirk.

Toby narrowed his eyes at the cool dismissal but evidently the other two took it in good humour because they only smiled and accepted the slur with a mock glare.

"And you, my son, what will it be this time for your birthday?" Jareth asked, neatly turning the topic away from his little daughter to something everyone could enjoy.

The birthday wishes were one of the few traditions that the broken little family shared together. Within reason, Jareth presented his children with a special crystal every year for their birthdays, allowing them to wish for whatever it was that they most wanted. The only condition the parents laid down was that the wish be decided in front of them a few days before the crystal was constructed. Otherwise they feared to house a dragon in the Castle.

Aidan perked up, quite happy for once to be the centre of attention if it was his father doing the attending. Attention of this kind had been very scarce of late. "I am not sure," he admitted. Hesitating a little, he looked to his dad before plunging boldly on. "Perhaps something a little more mature this year?" He knew what he really wished for, but he didn't think Jareth could give it to him. After all, his father hadn't had 'the time' for him since he turned thirteen!

Toby looked pointedly to Jareth so as to give him a hint of what the boy was alluding to. But Jareth wasn't looking at him- he usually never did- and chose instead to stare with a peculiar expression at Aidan's reddening cheeks. The dark slanting brows pulled together for a moment in a frown and Jareth actually shifted position to lean forward for a closer stare.

"And just what would this more mature wish be?" he asked quietly, tempering the words with a smile.

Aidan saw the smile and relaxed a little, guessing that he hadn't overstepped the boundaries just yet. "Perhaps... fighting knives or- or a sword or..."

"Not a dancing girl, I hope," Arradine teased, "That would be very entertaining. I would love to see Father's face if you did that."

Toby grinned suddenly at the thought. And at the implications! Jareth- so stiff-necked that he wouldn't tolerate a dancing girl? Not likely!

Jareth seemed to be thinking along the same lines because he was staring at the liquid in his glass with a rueful sigh. "I am hardly a prude," he reminded Arradine smartly, "And I would thank you to remember that."

"So you would have no problem with Aidan wishing for dancing girls?" Arradine challenged.

"What is a dancing girl?" Ereditha demanded.

Conversation stopped. A nine year old was not necessarily the most innocent of people. But Ereditha had a remarkable incapacity to distinguish between information that could be safely told her from information that was too adult for her. And both Toby and Jareth would have preferred not to tell her anything about dancing girls. It had been hard enough having The Talk with Arradine! Eventually, they'd agreed to let Lorelei do it.

Though- as Toby had once bitterly remarked to Fiorle in the second year- it wasn't as though Jareth couldn't have done it himself. After all the times Toby had woken up in the middle of the night with the bond aching and needling... it was a wonder the Goblin King could even crawl out of bed in the morning, let alone walk so straight.

No one else seemed to want to answer the question so he sighed and attempted to muddle his way through it. No doubt his 'husband' would at least appreciate the humiliation. "A dancing girl is a woman who dresses in a costume and dances for people. People pay her to dance for them."

"Like a ballerina?"

"Not quite," Toby was forced to admit, "Like- like the girls in 'Arabian Nights'. Do you remember? When Ali Baba entertains the thieves in his home?"

The scrunched up nose unwrinkled and then Ereditha was off on a long discussion on how pretty the costumes were and how much she wanted to wear them and did her parents think she could be a dancing girl when she grew up?

"You're already a princess, little one," Jareth said, "I don't think princesses can be dancing girls."

"No? Well, why not?"

"Dancing girls are born in the dead of the night under a special moon," Jareth wove, elaborately pitching his voice to carry the dramatics. It seemed to be working; Ereditha was enchanted, her eyes big while the spoon had stopped half-way to her mouth. "Unfortunately, you were born in the afternoon..."

Twenty-eight hours after he went into labour, Toby remembered.

"... under the scorching heat of an Underground summer's day."

Which Toby had been protected from because he had been taken almost immediately to the room where he now sleep and banished from ever entering Jareth's rooms ever again.

He felt a gaze on his face and he looked up from the goblet he was tracing with his eyes to see Jareth watching him from over the lip of his glass. The dual-coloured eyes were knowing, almost as if they could read the thoughts in his head and Toby raised his face defiantly, mocking the Goblin King right back.

"So the wish," he commented, "Maybe we should give you two. One for the day when Red can see it, and the other for a... more personal time?"

Aidan blushed again and stared down to the remains of his dinner as Arradine sniggered into her hand.

Toby grinned a little but took pity on the poor child. There was a limit to how much any teenager could stand to be teased about their growing sexual urges by their parents. He himself would have preferred to hide under the table rather than listen to another suggestive comment.

The meal was almost over as it was, and it ended when Arradine and Ereditha had a long argument about the origins of the grangers. The two were fascinated by grangers for the moment, Fiorle having begun to teach them about the rare creatures of the Underground that lived in the Goblin Kingdom. Jareth duly stopped them from pulling faces at each other and the two gracelessly looked at each other and burst into giggles.

The Goblin King only sighed and shook his moon-blond head. "It is a marvel that a sixteen year old young lady still behaves like a child of nine."

Arradine noticed the veiled rebuke and sobered up quickly, dropping her head to stare at her hands neatly disposed of in her lap. "Sorry, Father," she murmured.

Jareth leaned forward and flicked her cheek with his gloved finger. Toby remembered that gesture. It had been such a teasing, affectionate gesture from someone who seemed to constantly rejoice in touch. It had burned on his cheek like a brand for full minutes after the finger had withdrawn. Arradine did not experience what he had experienced, but she did look up and smile.

"I think we can safely agree that dinner is over," Toby sighed tiredly, rising to his feet and going to the door, "Hubor, could you clear the dishes, please?" The little goblin bowed and looked into the room. One look at Jareth and he looked hurriedly back up at Toby and whispered something.

Jareth watched with no little jealousy, noting the way that Toby's golden hair had grown. The mortal had grown his hair and once more it curled on the back of his neck. The golden throat was so slender and that wide mouth... Jareth felt a very definite ache when he looked at the way the lips smiled and laughed.

He rose and drained the bitter substance in his glass, picking up the bottle at his elbow and pouring out another measure. He really shouldn't be drinking it, but he would allow himself the soft haze. It restored him, made him feel less tired all the time.

The three young members of the strange family didn't notice any sign of morbid reflection, either on Jareth's face, or on Toby's. Ereditha was yawning and Arradine was not much better off.

"Go to bed," Toby said gently, "Good night, all of you."

The three nodded and left. Good night kisses were not a part of their bedtime ritual. Toby had been too heartbroken to kiss his children during those early years unless it was for something special, and Jareth... well, Jareth rarely touched them with bare skin.

"Toby, I would like to speak with you," Jareth snapped out.

The mortal turned from his way out the door to level a knowing gaze at the room's last occupant. The good humour had vanished once more and Jareth was flushed from his wine and his still-seething anger. "What can I do for you?" he asked.

"In private," Jareth ordered, picking his bottle up in one hand and his glass in another and waving Toby out the door, "The Library, if you please. No one will enter it at night."

They walked in silence for the most part, but Toby was far too conscious of the fact that Jareth was drinking that wine as if it were water and he was dying of thirst. The third glass found its way down that white throat and he was beginning to get very suspicious of the state of his bond mate by the time they reached the quiet library. But he dared not make any suggestions to counteract it. It would only lead to an argument and they had argued horribly the last time they had seen each other. Jareth had walked out of the room with a split lip.

"What? No words?" Jareth needled, "Nothing to say after an entire year?"

Toby shrugged. "You drink too much," he commented, a distasteful look at the bottle.

Jareth chuckled and poured himself another glass. He was drinking far too much. The next day would not be pleasant. The specially prepared wine was gloriously empowering, but the swirling vortex that it threw all his emotions into was not the best experience. A little every day was acceptable; now he wasoverdosing very heavily on it.

"I drink as I live my life," he commented whimsically, raising the glass in a silent toast to nothing before tossing it down.

Toby compressed his lips and continued to walk. He was not going to say anything more than he needed to. What was there to say anyway? Jareth had said it all a long time ago, in actions as well as words. It had hurt. Did the Goblin King realize how much it had hurt to go through that nightmarish birthing alone? With only a dwarf healer and a fae companion to help him through it? Did Jareth even know that he had been bleeding so profusely Lorelei had despaired of keeping him alive? Or even how badly it had hurt to sit up in spite of all that because his baby needed to be fed?

Fiorle had been there for that. Fiorle had helped him to sit up and said nothing when the tears had insisted on falling because of the pain. Fiorle had helped him to the bathroom when it was needed and helped him roll over when he didn't have the energy himself and fed him and changed him and helped care for a child that simply wouldn't stop crying!

And the nightmares! Oh God, the nightmares! Karen had told Toby it is was okay to get a little depressed after the birth. But it wasn't depression. He didn't hate himself, just his dreams. He hadn't even been able to sleep alone. Hell, he hadn't been able to walk for two weeks. But Jareth had come to see him only a few times, and never stayed more than a few moments.

"Such reflective silence," Jareth mumbled, "Such romance. I feel positively young again."

"You're hardly old."

"I'm hardly young. At four hundred and sixty nine, my elf, I would say I was in my prime. Don't you think?"

"What is the point of this conversation?" Toby interrupted.

Jareth put his hands up in a show of mock surrender. The bottle and glass had disappeared away somewhere. "I was only attempting to talk to you."

"About yourself again? I know how old you are; you don't need to tell me." Toby was not in a good mood. He never was when Jareth wanted to speak to him. It usually meant he was going to be raked over the coals for something and he didn't want that. Not after a year with no word. He couldn't keep hoping like this. He was thirty-five, dammit! Did life always suck?

Jareth said nothing more until they had entered the Library and then the reckless easiness had slipped away from him like a cloak, replaced with a very focused pair of hard eyes. "About that little stunt you pulled in my Labyrinth," he began.

Toby held up a warning hand. "I felt something happen in the Labyrinth and looked to see if there was any danger. I saw you, fighting with enough wolves to tear you to pieces and I saw the mortal, on her own and defenceless. It was lucky that I went to check on her because you managed to lose track of one of them."

"There were ten," Jareth protested, "What did you expected me to do?"

"How about something that actually doesn't get you killed," Toby snapped, "Like a nice big wall of fire. Wolves don't like walking into fire. You know that by now, surely?"

"Not all of us have inherent knowledge of the character traits of wolves," Jareth growled, "And as for my ignorance on the matter, I prefer to keep it that way. You were forbidden to enter the Labyrinth on any account, were you not?"

Toby opened his mouth to argue and caught That Look in Jareth's eyes. "Yes," he settled.

"And did you enter the Labyrinth?"

"Yes."

"And what would you have done if I had not come back to protect Norma? That wolf had you on your back and he was ripping your intestines out of you."

"He never laid a scratch on me," Toby protested, "I never let him close enough. If you mean to tell me that you rescued me, then you're way out of line. I don't need your help in a fight, Jareth, so stop patting yourself on the back for protecting another of your little subjects."

The Goblin King blinked and half-smiled. "I would never mistake you for one of my subjects," he commented, "My subjects would never dare to speak so to me."

Toby snorted derisively and turned away, stomping to the nearest chair and sitting down. Jareth was far too temperamental and far too enigmatic. Why did the Goblin King want to talk to him? There had been nothing new said so far.

"I want your word that you will not do something like that again," Jareth said quietly, standing in front of him with his arms folded, a serious look on his face. "I will not always have the time to come to your aid. Nevermindyour feelings on this matter, you will not leave the Castle on any account ever again."

"I'll do what I want, Jareth..."

"No, you will not."

"Look, if I feel there's something wrong, I'm going to go out to do something about it. What if it's one of the children? What if one of them gets into trouble and I feel it? Do you want me to sit by and do nothing? What if Arradine gets kidnapped or Aidan gets injured?"

Jareth took a hasty step backwards. "Nothing will happen to Aidan," he snapped breathlessly, "Nothing! Don't tempt faith by speaking of it!"

Toby's eyes narrowed. It sounded as if Jareth was trying to reassure himself more than someone else. And the Goblin King had looked at Aidan in a peculiarly hesitant manner all night... was there something wrong? Some threat that Toby didn't know about? "Jareth, what is it? What's Aidan done now?"

A quick shake of the moon-blond head and Jareth brought his mind briskly back to the present. "Nothing," he sighed, "Aidan has done nothing."

"Then why does it sound like you're lying?"

A book was picked up and put down again, restless fingers rifling its pages for a minute before an answer was forthcoming. "Aidan will be safe. Give me your word you will not let any harm happen to them. You will stay in the Castle and protect them, won't you? Do what I can't?"

"Jareth, stop speaking in riddles." Toby was getting scared now. "Just tell me what's happening? Has someone threatened you?"

"No one threatens anything." Archer... He put his hand to his head, trying to still those thoughts... long skinny fingers and the wrinkled brow... sweet kisses at midnight... "No one threatens them. Just go." He couldn't control himself much longer, he knew. He would lose his remaining sanity if he did. Blast that wine!

"But Jareth, I'm worried..."

"Get out!"

Toby found himself standing outside the door of the library just seconds later, the door locked against him and a raging desire to be back inside that room, even if the sounds of smashing crystal and ripping books was any indication of his bond mate's mood.

Something was wrong. And he wished- God, how he wished!- that Jareth would just stop shutting him out.


	4. Grangers

Author's Note: The title of this chapter will become apparent a little later on, I promise.A few more hints are in this chapter. You guys should be getting it by now!

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Toby put down his book- rather involuntarily- when his youngest jumped straight on top of him and screamed in his ear. He shook his head slightly to clear the ringing but grinned anyway, hugging her tight in his arms.

"Can we go catch a granger?"

Toby shook his head. Ereditha was mortal all right; no other race ever wanted to capture everything of interest in its pudgy little hands like that. "No, Red. Grangers are not meant to be pets," he said firmly.

She huffed and began to turn red.

"One squeak from you and you go to your room and stay there until you stop behaving so badly."

She subsided. "But Daddy," she said urgently, "Fiorle said he'd take us to see the grangers if you allowed him."

"I see Ereditha has already presented my case."

Toby looked at the tall fae entering the door and shook his head disapprovingly. "And just how do you plan to let me tell the Goblin King that his children have been eaten by grangers."

Ereditha giggled and pulled gently at his hair. "Grangers don't eat us," she cried, beginning to bounce, "They eat leaves."

"She is right, my Lord."

"Stop that, Fiorle, or I'll send you to an oubliette for a few days to rethink that hideous title. Jareth won't let any of these three out into the plains, you know that."

"It will only be for a few hours," Fiorle pointed out, "He need never know they have gone. We will be back in plenty of time for the evening meal."

"Sorry, Red. Go tell Aidan and Arradine to stop terrorizing Hubor for food. None of you are leaving the Castle today." Toby pushed the little girl off his lap and sent her sulking out the door, grumbling under her breath. Fiorle only looked surprised by the decision, unusually harsh from someone who agreed that a practical education was the best thing for his children. "Fiorle, shut the door, will you? We need to talk."

"What is wrong?" the fairy asked immediately, shutting the door and striding down to the couch next to Toby's, "Has something happened? The Goblin King has said something?"

"Jareth? Well, yes in a way. No, not like that. He hasn't touched me- you know he doesn't care enough to do that- but he made me promise that I'd keep the kids safe. I don't why; he just blurted it out, as if he was scared that he wouldn't be able to do it himself. Which is really freaky because if Jareth can't do anything for them, how does he expect me to do it?"

Fiorle held up a large hand and stopped the avalanche of questions. He sat up and pushed his braid off his shoulder, confused by the words. "His Majesty said they were in danger? How is this?"

"I don't know," Toby growled, "He wouldn't tell me. Like I said, he just made me promise that nothing would hurt them."

"If I may ask, in what topic of conversation did this promise come up?"

Toby tried to think back. He remembered Jareth drinking, the irritation over his interference in matters concerning the Labyrinth... apart from that, things had been too disjointed to really make much sense. At the time, he had followed the conversation effortlessly, but now it seemed so incoherent. "He was raking me over the coals for going out into the Labyrinth. He wanted me to promise that I would never do it again. I said I couldn't; I pointed out it could very well have been the kids. You know how Arradine is always running off into the Labyrinth, no matter what Jareth says. I said I couldn't promise anything. I mentioned Aidan possibly being in trouble and he just went off the deep end."

"Hmmm..." the fae rubbed absently at his chin, trying to sort out what possible danger could come to his Lord's three children. "There has been nothing that I have heard of. And I would know. Nothing happens in the Castle that I do not find out for you."

"Yes, there is," Toby said dryly, "You still won't tell me who Jareth's new lovers are."

"That is because he does not have any in the Castle," Fiorle protested, "Unless they live in his art rooms, which is barred even from the goblin servants."

"Red goes up there but she's never seen any other people. Except Lorelei and even I won't accuse Jareth of that." Fiorle shot him a disquieted look, but Toby saw nothing since he was looking elsewhere. "Not that dwarves or goblins are not attractive people. They have their good points and Lorelei was very good to me. But Jareth... he's far too proud to take just anyone as his lover. He likes having a pretty handbag, I guess; wants people to envy him."

Fiorle preserved his silence.

"What? What did I say?"

"Nothing, my friend."

Toby blinked. There was something a little uncertain in his friend's voice and that was disconcerting. If there was something that Fiorle wasn't telling him, there would be trouble to pay. But as it stood, he couldn't accuse him of that. "Okay, then. So I thought we'd stay in for a few weeks and keep an eye on those devils of mine. And not a word to them or they'll stage elaborate schemes to draw this 'threat' out into the open."

Fiorle laughed, remembering how some rebel group of goblins had attempted to kidnap Ereditha. The Goblin King had ordered his guards to tear the Goblin City apart until the group was found. Arradine had set out her own plan- she'd sent Ereditha to play in the gardens and then waited with Aidan to capture anyone who tried to steal her little sister. With a lucky intervention from five goblin servants, they had actually accomplished their plan. And Ereditha had a tiny scar on her shoulder to prove it.

Toby smiled as well, but painfully. The Goblin King had been furious, and both Arradine and Aidan had been soundly tongue-lashed into an apology. But he had seen the fierce pride in Jareth's eyes as he'd watched his son and daughter walk dejectedly to their room, the small smile that tugged at the corners of that thin mouth. It had hurt to know that Jareth had been right to do what he did, no matter how heartless. Somehow it seemed an act of treachery. Jareth had stolen away his innocence, his life, his love, and now even his role as father was not worth much.

"My Lord," Fiorle called, standing before him with a hand on his shoulder, "Toby, are you awake?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm awake. What is it?"

"I was going to ask to take a day off," Fiorle explained, "The winds call to me with the promise of adventure and I... well, I cannot sit indoors on such a day."

The mortal shrugged and stood up himself. "Go ahead! You don't need my permission for that. I told you- you come or go as you please; there is nothing to stop you. I think I'll go down to the gardens and train again. I haven't picked up those knives in over a week."

"Are you certain you want to?" Deep brown eyes narrowed slightly, knowing the mortal better than Toby would like to admit. "The nightmare was of the rape, was it not?"

"It was a nightmare," Toby snapped, "And I will not let it control me. Go if you're going. But stop trying to analyse me, for God's sake!" He stalked off in ill temper, slamming the door shut behind him.

Fiorle nodded absently to himself, agreeing with the opinion that the nightmare had been worse than usual. There was only one reason that he still slept in Toby's bedchamber and that was the nightmares. The mortal had handled everything else apart from them. And he still woke up crying or whimpering in the middle of the night, desperate for comfort and desperate for release.

Comfort, the fae had been willing to offer; release, no. He couldn't offer that and Toby wouldn't accept it even if he had. There was simply no attraction at all between them and Fiorle knew Toby's position on homosexuality. It was ironic, considering what Fiorle knew of his husband's life.

What was even more ironic was that this husband was not precisely homosexual by choice- he leaned towards heterosexual with homosexual tendencies- but by circumstance. Jareth had early learned that love couldn't be packaged according to gender. It was a sad situation for any thirteen-year-old to learn. And while Fiorle willingly admitted that the Goblin King was behaving like a spoiled brat and a tyrant, he still harboured a certain sympathetic understanding of what drove him to it. And Fiorle had his own ideas about why Jareth couldn't bear to live with his family, and it had nothing to do with boredom or distrust.

"Ever the enigma," he sighed, shaking his head and rising.

The quick stroll through the corridors gave him ample time to compose his own saddened reflections before he passed the library. The door stood open and from half a corridor away he could hear the angry voices, neither shouting, both furious in their tight control.

"You have no right to treat him like this. He gives up everything for you." Arradine? What was wrong this time? Clearly it wasn't any of his business. Fiorle liked his internal organs inside his body. The Goblin King would eviscerate him for eavesdropping.

"You know nothing of the matter." Well, certainly no other person used that library. Toby never entered it. Only Jareth ever went there. "Stop arguing a point to a conversation you cannot be a part of."

"Well, stop speaking in riddles. If you want me to shut up, then say so."

"Enough, Arradine! Leave me in peace, or I will not control my temper."

An audible bark of laughter and then Arradine came storming out, her back ramrod straight and her eyes flashing fire. Fiorle hurriedly got out of her way. The girl would be coming into her magic around this time and with a powerful bloodline like hers, there was no knowing what she would do in an uncontrolled rage. The Goblin King seemed to throw something because there was a muffled oath and the sound of something clattering against the wall and possibly breaking.

Fiorle made to leave.

"Fiorle!"

He stopped.

The Goblin King stood in the doorway and glared at him, hands on his hips and his mouth compressed to a thin line. The fae sighed and turned around. Was no one in this Castle in any kind of a good mood? He bowed respectfully, his hand over his heart. "Your Majesty?" he asked, all innocent concern.

"Paying you to keep an eye on my consort does not include listening to my private conversations," Jareth snapped, one crystal already in his hand and another forming, "I do not take kindly to insufferable busybodies."

"With due respect, Your Majesty, I came down the corridor lost in thought," Fiorle excused hurriedly, "The voices were unfamiliar and I never heard the words until I was almost at the door. I was just leaving when the Princess exited the room. It was not intentional, Sire."

The crystal hovered dangerously and then vanished. "If it happens again, Fiorle, I will throw you into the deepest oubliette," Jareth promised quietly, "Get out of here." He himself turned and swanned back into his library, banging the door shut behind him.

Fiorle took a deep breath to calm his racing heart and took off, happy enough to leave in one peace. With such a dark cloud hanging over the Castle, he was not about to stay there to be yelled at. Which was all very well, but his footsteps to the entrance to the safe path of the Labyrinth only took him passed a particular stable where a particular Prince was brushing down the horses with jerky hands and a palpable air of misery.

Fiorle sighed. Aidan hadn't seen him and he could still disappear down that path without Aidan even noticing he was there. "Prince Aidan?" he called, walking with barely dragging heels to the stable, "What is wrong?"

"Stop calling me Prince, Fiorle," Aidan snapped, throwing the brush away in a fine temper and startling the horse.

The fairy took the halter and spoke a few soothing words in the animal's ear, quietening him enough to look back to Aidan. Unfortunately, one could not do the same to calm a fifteen-year-old immortal. "Forgive me, Aidan. It was meant as a friendly jest. Is there something the matter?"

"Nothing that you can help with."

"Ah. I think you would prefer to be left alone. Excuse me." He was five paces to the path when Aidan stopped him, a hand on his shoulder and an apology in his blue eyes. The golden hair was cut short for the child, growing out only now as he approached the first stage of adulthood, and it feathered around his neck and temples, adding a softness to his sharp-featured face.

"I apologize," Aidan sighed, "I did not mean to snarl."

'_You have no right to treat him like this..._' "Was it an argument with your father, Aidan?"

The hand was instantly withdrawn. "I don't want to speak of it."

"Very well. Let us speak of other things. What do you plan to wish for this year? Ereditha mentioned dancing girls."

"Fiorle, you know I have no interest in girls, do you not?" Aidan was impatient, growling like Toby did in a temper, "My parents will not understand for all that they themselves are... but you know me. And even were I to like girls, I would hardly like one paid to give me pleasure. There's no fun in that!"

"Ever your father's son," Fiorle said thoughtlessly.

Whatever last traces of control Aidan had been keeping on himself vanished with those words, leaving the fifteen-year-old to bite his hand as the tears came, to stop himself from crying aloud. He turned away in frustrated shame, upset with the world at that particular moment and not liking his own lack of control very much. Fiorle turned considerately away and waited.

"Gods above, I wish I had never been born," Aidan gulped, swiping angrily at his wet eyes, "I hate everything in this world."

"That is not true. You love horses and grangers and your sisters," Fiorle reminded him, "And no matter your feelings right now, you know you do love your parents."

A low rumble that sounded very like a growl was the first reaction to that. And then the startling announcement- "My father cannot bear to look at me. Why should I love him? If he could birth me and still hate me, then why should I feel any care to him at all?"

"He does not hate you."

"Does not?" Worldly blue eyes looked to the awkward fairy. "Or cannot? It seems he cannot hate me because he is, after all, the one who birthed me. But do all 'mothers' love their children? No. And my father certainly hates me."

"Aidan, it was a disagreement," Fiorle soothed, reaching out to ease the knots out of one tense shoulder, "There will be peace tomorrow if you could let go of your anger. All this passion will pass in a few days and soon you will not even remember why you were so upset."

Aidan shrugged off the hand and bent to pick up the brush again. "Father is no longer going to teach me himself. I'm going to have a tutor. He says that he has no time, but that's all lies. It has to be. Arradine still has lessons with him and Ereditha too. He will continue working with them every morning but not with me? What else am I to think but that he doesn't want to see me?"

Fiorle listened to this in growing horror. It was worse than he had expected! Was the Goblin King so far gone? It was a wonder that he could face this fear and not... that was where his brain stopped working. Because there was no wonder. It accounted for so many unexplained things, so many reported incidents. The disjointed conversations, the cold withdrawal, the exhaustion, the inability to breath the air at times, even the gloved hands- all of them pointed to something Fiorle had seen once before and had prayed to never see again.

"Aidan, listen to me," he said suddenly, his voice as sharp as the crack of a whip, "This anger at some trifle is complete nonsense. You should be ashamed of yourself! After fifteen years, you surely do not need your father to coddle you to know he cares for you. Because he does care, very much. More so than any of you even know."

Fiorle himself was now in a fine temper and there was just one person that he needed to see. He wasn't sure where Lorelei was, but he was in luck- she was attending some goblin child in the City.

Having finished her medicating and setting of a broken arm, Lorelei found herself unceremoniously dragged away out of the city and into the forests housing the graves of the goblin kings.

"Do you know about the King's condition?"

Lorelei's eyes widened and then narrowed, staring speculatively at the face of the fairy that knelt before her, determined and pale. "I knows of no condition," she said warily, "Which one does you have in mind?"

"Stop evading the question, Lorelei. How far gone is he? Aidan turned thirteen three years ago. He has spent three years with this illness and told no one? Has he lost his mind so soon?"

Lorelei gave up. "Not three," she sighed tiredly, "Ten. He were beginning it when I first took care of Lord Toby. It ain't going to take long now."

"TEN YEARS?" The incredulous cry rang through the empty trees with enough force to startle Lorelei herself. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN- TEN YEARS?"

"What do it sound like," the healer growled, poking him in the chest with her thick finger, "The silly goat won't do nothing I tell him and now he's dying. There ain't anything I can do about it except give him what he wants."

"But the cure?"

"Won't take it. I tolds him to be telling Lord Toby, but no! He hads himself another attack when I tried. So I left him be. There ain't nothing I can do, I tell you."

Fiorle growled and kicked at a stone with his boot, sending it clattering away into a hard tree root as he threw himself down on the ground and covered his face with his hands for a few minutes. A few deep breathes later and he felt a nudge against his knee. He looked up and Lorelei silently handed him a vial of some kind of potion.

"Drink," she ordered, "I'm notgoing to take two silly goats dying on me. Why do this bother you so?"

He accepted the vial and drank, letting the potion sooth his nerves and spread gentle calmness through his veins before answering- "A close friend died this same way. Before I left the Fairy Kingdom to explore the world. He was a soldier in the war twice removed from the last one. He died praying he wouldn't have to fight."

Lorelei shook her head grimly and patted his knee with her gnarled hand. She didn't like this business either. There was rarely a cure for it and even if there was, the very nature of the illness meant that few would take it. The Goblin King was in the same predicament. He had his cure within easy reach but would not take it, refusing to do anything besides swallow those vile potions she made to his direction, overdosing heavily on wine and black magic to try to keep himself alive.

Oh, it had been a long ten years!

"Now, you sits right there and tells me," she instructed, sitting down on the nearest tree root with a prim despair over her dirtied clothes, "How did you find out?"

Aidan looked bitterly amused. "Easy," he supplied, waving a hand at her, "He cannot bear to be near Aidan without his distress becoming apparent. For anyone who knows his history, the prospect of illness is not that surprising. And there can be no doubt that he is ill?"

Lorelei's face was sad as she stared down at her clasped hands. "He ain't never going to see Arradine turn twenty-five," she agreed.


	5. Draconites

Author's Note: Oh, all of you are doing so well with the guessing!!! But you're not getting it: I told you to keep a sharp eye on the chapters as the series progresses. Every little bit of information is important. But don't worry; it won't be long now.

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Toby said a few last words and then smiled one last time as the image in the mirror faded. He never liked these conversations with his parents, but it was all he was going to get for now. Jareth still forbade him to go anywhere that wasn't in the Castle or the Castle grounds and Aboveground was a subject that he didn't dare bring up.

Sarah always told him to risk it, to just come up and leave Jareth. He was, after all, thirty-five. He was old enough to have wasted quite a lot of his youth and young enough to do something about it. He could certainly start again. Maybe get a job or go to college, marry a girl, let her have the kids and sympathize completely when she had to cope with late night feeding and teething problems. Of course! And no girl would ever wonder what kind of freak she was marrying when the guy she was with looked like a twenty-one year old and never aged.

"As usual, Jareth's made sure I can't leave," Toby sighed, lifting his hands to retie his hair. The ribbon always slipped off his hair. It was infuriating.

Not that he was planning to leave in any case. The one thing Toby knew for certain was that Jareth would go ballistic if he ever left. And that worried him. Jareth had been acting strange for many years now and there was only so much that he could blame on Archer and the enslavement. Which was another sore point. Jareth wouldn't even permit Archer's name to be mentioned in his Kingdom. No goblin dared to talk of the war or the seven years of upheaval that followed. Jareth had had it stricken from all the record books.

But Toby couldn't see how that helped. It didn't make a difference to him whether Archer was alive or dead, forgotten or remembered; he still saw that dark shadow in his dreams at least once every month.

Fiorle had been right. The nightmare of the rape Aboveground had been playing in his mind for weeks. He couldn't sleep for fear that he'd feel the phantoms of that pain touch him once more. And always he would wake up reaching out for some kind of anchor or reassurance. Fiorle was there; he always was. But Fiorle wasn't capable of the reassurance that Toby needed. They were friends, but Toby wanted Jareth. Jareth was not a friend. Jareth was anything but a friend and the mortal thirsted for him desperately on those nights.

No, love was never easy.

It was tragic that he knew he was in love with Jareth. He wasn't gay and he still held to that. There should be no reason why he loved him, or desired him. The craving for just one touch of those long white fingers was the cause of much of the tension on Toby's behalf every time they came into contact. He missed his lover. It was as simple as that.

"But," he told himself, "Jareth has moved on. So why am I still sitting here and staring into space? There has to be a reason."

And oh, but there was and he knew it. Somewhere inside him he knew that Jareth couldn't have just stopped desiring him overnight. If there were the slightest chance- any chance at all- that the Goblin King could take him back, he would have no reason to abandon his life for something that would always be less than satisfying. The thought pushed him to his feet and out the door of his bedroom, his conversation with his parents over and his restlessness leading him to the books that he had planned to read but didn't want to.

Time crawled when summer was virtually over and the autumn drew near.

A knock at the door fifteen minutes later was like a blessing from the Gods. Toby joyfully called to whoever it was to enter and threw down the book. It could wait.

Aidan came in but didn't look too good. "Dad, I... we n-need to talk," he stammered.

Concern flared and Toby bounded from his seat, taking the paper that his son held out. He read it once and almost fell over. He steadied himself and read it again. Looking up, he stared at Aidan as if expecting the kids to bounce in and say it was all some terrible joke. But there was nothing in those blue eyes but hopeless fear. "When did you find this?" Toby demanded.

"This morning," Aidan answered, "I thought she was sulking from yesterday after her argument with Father, but..."

"What argument? Another one?"

Aidan flushed and nodded, eager to wave the question. He beckoned his dad to follow him. "She was upset, but I thought nothing of it. She went to bed early and I never saw her this morning because I went down to the City to see a friend. I- I don't know when..."

"Last night," Toby said grimly, "She wrote it in the note. Go the stables and see if the horses are all accounted for. That dratted girl would do something this stupid! Red doesn't know anything I suppose?"

Aidan hesitated for a moment and then plunged boldly on. "She says that Arradine is going to live with the draconites."

"The... Fucking hell! Go the stables, please. I'll be with your father."

"You're telling Father? He won't like it. Dad, you know he just hits out when he loses his temper. At least wait until I can come with you."

Toby blinked in momentary shock. The child really sounded worried that Jareth would hurt him in his rage. It was a little touching and rather terrifying. "Aidan, your father won't lay a finger on me. We may not get along but we don't quite hate each other." A white lie would do for now. "Now go. The faster we know where to look, the safer she'll be."

He waited only until Aidan had left before taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes. He knew where Jareth was. Now he just had to transport himself there.

The room he found himself in was one he had never been in before. But he recognized bits from Ereditha's descriptions. Even Aidan and Arradine never dared come up here. It said a lot for his youngest daughter's courage. The room was surprisingly not as dusty as he expected, nor damp. It was enormous, the entire floor spread out into one room with wide-open spaces and tables and chairs scattered randomly around. Canvases and paintings were hung on the walls or stacked in corners. Shelves full of books were everywhere. Shockingly enough, Toby recognized a guitar lying in an old armchair.

Be that as it may, Jareth needed to be found and this new mess sorted out. And while Toby considered it laughable that the half-goblin would hit him, he did expect a few harsh words. Better that Aidan never heard those.

"Jareth? Jareth, where are you. Something's wrong and I need you now."

Jareth was startled to be interrupted by a hauntingly familiar voice at his back, disturbing him right in the middle of his writing. He sat stock-still for a moment, confusion and disbelief warring in him for supremacy. It couldn't be Toby, for no one but Ereditha and Lorelei were permitted to enter. Why the devil was he starting to hear voices? Surely he wasn't as far gone as all that?

"If you would care to turn? I don't want to talk to your back."

No, there was no mistaking that snide voice. Jareth turned slowly, dual-coloured eyes over-bright in his face, energy draining away to nothingness as the coldness took over again. "Really," he commented, "Then what do you want?"

Toby wasted no time in wordlessly thrusting the letter out to him. Everything he needed to say was said. "It's not a want," he eventually said, eyes scanning Jareth's expressionless face as the Goblin King read the letter, "It's more of an offering of information. We need to find her. Now!"

Jareth looked up, trying very hard to process all of this. "Arradine has run away," he began slowly, "Why? Was she unhappy?"

Toby frowned a little. The pensive voice sounded a little confused, as if Jareth couldn't understand what it was he was being presented with. "Yes," Toby agreed, "She ran away. Last night. Apparently after an argument with you. Which is something we'll have to talk about when she gets back, but right now we have to get her home. Okay? Jareth? Are you listening?"

The Goblin King could hear Toby. He really could. But after yesterday's emotional upheaval and quite a few nights spent sleeping off his last overdose on black magic, it was not his best day. That, and his energy levels were dangerously depleted. Lorelei would kill him herself for being out of bed.

"I am fine," he managed, a discreet hand on his desk steadying himself. "Perhaps she will return on her own, Toby. She is surely not that stupid. We need only wait."

"Wait? I'm not waiting for anything! What about all those hints of the children being in danger?"

"What hints?"

"You made me promise to protect them, Jareth. Think! Or are you drunk again?"

Yes, drunk, Jareth wanted to say, let's pretend I'm just drunk and forget this whole mess. He couldn't face it. He didn't want to. He was supposed to be resting, dammit, not chasing after demented children who ran away because they were upset over his treatment of their younger brothers. Which was when it finally sank through to him. "Oh Gods, she's outside alone!"

Toby sighed in relief. This was more like it! He blushed a little as Jareth cursed volubly in the goblin tongue. But that wasn't the point. "Stop, okay? She can't have gone far even with a horse from the stables. I'll take wolf-form and see if I can track her. It shouldn't be too hard because, well, she'll smell slightly of blood."

Jareth looked perplexed and then Toby sent him an expressive look. "Oh. She's menstruating, is she? Well, that should make it easier. She'll probably go slower. I'll take the sky. If I see her, I'll let you know."

"How? We might be miles apart," Toby protested.

'_Just because I don't use the link, doesn't mean it cannot be used_,' Jareth mind-spoke.

Toby stared with his mouth open as the white owl flew through the window. After seventeen years... he had heard his husband in his head!


	6. Grangers and Draconites

"You ain't fit enough," Lorelei protested, struggling to keep up with her patient's long strides, "Wait a few days first."

"I am quite well," Jareth insisted.

"Drop the glamor then."

Mismatched eyes glared down at the dwarf healer and then flicked back up, ignoring her in the hopes that she would turn out to be just another hallucination. Unfortunately no hallucination could rival the energy of the real thing and this version of Lorelei was clearly real. He still didn't know quite why he put up withher bossiness.

"I prefer not to, thank you," Jareth said shortly, disappearing into a room where Toby was waiting. "Toby, did the elves have anything to say?"

"They sent their greetings and said that they haven't seen Arradine for ten years. They know nothing, Jareth. Anything from you?"

The Goblin King nodded grimly. "I brought someone who knows something." He held out the little ball of fur in his left hand.

Toby blinked at it. The fur was overlong and shaggy, and bright purple! Jareth made some kind of clicking sound and it began to uncurl, both eyes blinking at completely different times and a pug-like nose snuffling in the air.

Ereditha gave a loud whoop and jumped down from her table to skip to the them. Jareth obligingly lowered his hand so she could stare at the little creature in fascination. "Be careful," he warned, "Grangers get hurt very easily."

"That' a granger? I thought they were bigger!"

Jareth looked up and nodded. "They are. This is just an infant. I found it by the safety path and it tells me that Arradine passed that way."

Toby exhaled softly and sat down, rubbing his eyes. "The draconites," he guessed tiredly. Opening his eyes, he met Jareth's gaze with his own. "I just spoke with Sarah. It seems Arra was very upset with the way you treat Aidan. Is this true? You argued with her because Aidan is to have a tutor?"

Aidan blanched as his father stiffened and took a step back, a wild look in his eyes. "It is all right," he said hurriedly. He hated causing trouble. "I- I already agreed to it yesterday. I don't mind; really."

Toby ignored him, his blue eyes still cold and furious. "Jareth?"

"Ereditha, take the granger and sit by the window. They like sunlight. Toby, I think this conversation needs to be had outside this room."

Aidan slumped down at the table, dropping his head in his hands and wondering if it would not be easier to be a nameless goblin somewhere on the farmlands, happy in his ignorance and simplicity. After all, he thought bitterly, that way he wouldn't be responsible for ruining his family.

Toby was well aware of just how Aidan would think. It hadn't been so long ago since he would have thought the same. Hell, he still did! In many ways he still blamed himself for everything that had gone wrong. He could blame that self-hate on Archer, and on Jareth, and on Sarah and everyone else around him, or he could agree that it was simply the fact that he felt so useless where he was. Currently all the anger that he normally kept dormant was making its presence felt and he was working very hard to keep his emotions from seeping out of control.

"I think you should explain yourself," he said tightly, leaning against the wall and glaring at his husband, "I do hope it's not what I think it is."

"And just what do you think it is?" Jareth asked, smirking coolly down at him, giving no hint of the hammering in his temples.

"I think you're pushing Aidan away, distancing yourself from him. And I hope you have a reason, because there will be hell to pay if you're hurting him, Jareth. I don't care about raising these kids pretty much on my own, but I do object to having to clean up the results of your cruelty."

The headache became worse. "I am not being cruel. There is nothing more I can teach him. I want him to have an Aboveground education and one of the mortals have offered to instruct him. He likes science. He likes knowing how the world works on a non-magical level. Marjorie can help him with that."

"Marjorie can help him with a lot of things," Toby yelled, "She's had her eye on getting out of the Ivory Tower since she got there! She tried it on with you too, Jareth, until you got tired of her. What's she going to do to him? Have you even looked at who it is you're subjecting him to?"

"I am hardly handing Aidan out like a handbasket. He has a mind and he can take care of himself."

"He's fifteen!"

"Yes." Somehow the thought seemed to make his headache a little less painful. "Yes, he is fifteen. And at fifteen heis old enough toknow."

Toby stared at this person before him, not sure any more who he was even talking to. But then he never had known. Jareth had told him nothing before they'd been married and had refused to tell him any more after. The entire Underground knew more than he did about who his bond mate was.

"What is wrong with you? Do you really want him under HER influence? Marjorie is twenty-nine, Jareth. She has tried everything possible to make trouble, including whisperinglies in my ear and trying to bed you." He took a step closer. "At sixteen I was ready to believe that me being raped was my own fault. How protected is Aidan going to be at fifteen? She'll influence him into doing her dirty work for her, make a proper mess of everything and then Aidan will feel horrible and used. Would you put him through that?"

"I have no intention of putting him through anything," Jareth said quietly, "Don't question me on this, Toby. She won't get through to Aidan. And I cannot teach him any more any longer."

Toby sighed and shook his head. The anger was draining away. What good did it do anyway? He was still powerless. Even if hestaged a rebellion he would still be powerless. His independence had worn away a long time ago. "I don't think we're ever going to agree. I don't want Aidan anywhere near Marjorie. But I get the feeling he shouldn't be anywhere near you either. I don't want my children to grow up heartless as well. What did the granger say?"

Jareth's mouth quirked a little in bitter amusement at being thought heartless, but said nothing more on the matter. Toby wouldn't, naturally, know that the illness he had made one more emotional, not less so. "The granger told me that a horse moved down the path two days ago."

"Two days? But she only ran away yesterday!"

"She never slept in her bed," Jareth shrugged, "The servants say she rode out that evening, a few hours before dusk. It was not a planned thing."

"And why the draconites?" Toby enquired.

Jareth looked a little rueful. "She was reading the legend of the splitting of the known Underground into the Three Kingdoms. The draconites were highly prized allies in that matter and played a large part. When the Lawless Kingdom was taken, they were forbidden to leave their underground city in the mountains. Enough were killed in the preceding century of war to make them reclusive. They are only known now through legend. Arradine was fascinated."

"The same fascination you have for elves?" Toby commented dryly. He couldn't help but be amused. Jareth and Arradine both had a love for the rare or the exotic. "Silly question; I forgot you hated them now. Never mind, we have work to do."

"We?" Jareth raised an eyebrow. "You are staying right here. Goblin guards are already on their way to..."

"You're trusting your daughter's safety to the palace guards?"

"They are extremely efficient and they patrol the mountains, Toby. They know the land."

The mortal sniffed and turned on his heel, storming back into the room. "Aidan, I want you to look after your sister for a few days. Ereditha, you will do everything Aidan tells you... unless it's something you know I won't like. Take care of yourselves, both of you, and Fiorle is here if you need anything." He turned and levelled a cold glance at Jareth. "Oh, and your father too. I'm sure he'll eventually get around to dealing with any problems you have. Okay? Bye."

And he was gone.

Jareth stared at the spot where his little bond mate had been standing and was wildly tempted to let him go alone. He looked up and caught Aidan's eye. Oh God, Toby was away and he was left alone with both children! With Aidan! "Excuse me, I think your dad is going to need some help." He disappeared too.

Toby was startled out of his dark thoughts when a gloved hand caught at his arm. For an instant he thought he saw a pair of burning dark eyes and almost screamed. But other than a harsh shake, Jareth let go of him and pointed impatiently to the faint traces of a path to their right. "Down there," the Goblin King said roughly, "No magic now, my elf; we don't want to attract bandits, now do we?My familybanished most of them to this ghastly place. Why ever would they find it amusing to capture the Goblin King, his consort and his daughter and torture them to death."

Toby shivered a little and unconsciously drew closer. After that deep shock, the talk of torture was not comforting. He was too aware of the scar on his stomach for that.

But Jareth's eyes softened somewhat. He didn't touch him, but he said nothing more, simply gesturing for them to continue on the path. "I do not know the way but I suppose we can wander until we meet someone who can tell us."

Eventually Jareth and Toby had walked for what seemed like hours, both wrapped up in their individual thoughts. Toby was of the opinion that they couldn't remember what it was like to have a conversation. They didn't even seem to remember what it was like to share emotions. The link had been used a few times the day before and it had reawakened something sad inside of him. Unfortunately, it had also played on his hopes, even when he told himself that Jareth meant nothing by it. How could he- Toby being what he was, Jareth needing something more than him?

_"A wild animal like you, playing house with babies and a sweet little consort?" _God, he still hated Archer!

"Where the hell are we?" Jareth's growl startled him, coming, as it were, out of nowhere.

"Somewhere rocky," Toby answered helplessly, looking around at the never-ending scenery of dry, barren mountainside, "We just have to keep going."

"We shouldn't even be here. Just what does that little idiot think she is?"

Toby's lips thinned. This was really the last straw. "That little idiot is your daughter," he retorted, "She has your personality."

Jareth had had enough too. It was his decision to stay away from his bond mate, and he believed in it. But he was just not having an easy time doing anything about it! And Toby's hostile attitude was not helping matters. He knew all too well that the mortal could not know how on edge he was, or why he was so terribly afraid for both Arradine's safety or Toby's. But an irrational temper did not always concur with his rational mind.

He grabbed Toby's arm, hating everything even more because the arm was just as slim and delicate as it had been the first time he had ever touched it, and dragged his husband into the nearest cave he could find. It could have contained the Lord of the Draconites himself and he wouldn't have cared right then.

"Stop it," he demanded, throwing Toby inside and standing firmly in the entrance, "Do not blame me for this! She chose to run away because she mistook a situation she knew nothing about. Try to remember that I did not drive her out of my Kingdom?"

"Oh, didn't you? I'm not so sure. You love them all, Jareth, I know that, but you're not capable of loving someone and not hurting them. It's a talent you have!" Toby didn't know where the words were coming from. Quite possibly they were ten years worth of anger and bitterness. He wanted to stop talking, to take that stricken look out of Jareth's eyes. But shouldn't Jareth hurt? Just once? "It's certainly working with Aidan. That boy worships you and you push him away like that? Just like you did with me." Toby was sounding shrewish and he knew it. But he couldn't help himself. "And God knows you never wanted Ereditha in the first place."

"That is not fair..."

"I don't care what's fair and what's not! I don't! I don't! I just want my daughter!"

Jareth was fairly certain he was going to apparate back to his castle in the next second. And woe betide his goblins if he did! He took a calming deep breathe and tried to make things right. "Toby, we will find her. She was heading here."

He watched passively as Toby sank to the ground and shook his head, a muted sound escaping that wide mouth. A beautiful mouth still, to all intents and purposes, the lower lip still as succulent; and the whole still as venomous as poison. Jareth sat on the floor and reached out.

All at once, on cold sand and colder passion, Toby just couldn't stand it. He melted into Jareth's arms with a desperate sob. "I just have the kids, only the kids. And I couldn't bear it... oh, God, please, please, don't let anything happen. I couldn't bear it!" Toby was shuddering, nose buried into Jareth's shoulder and fists bunched in the thick jacket. He could feel a soft leather glove stroking his hair, another grasping the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

It was cold in the cave and he shivered, sniffing as the sudden tempest of tears stopped just as unexpectedly.

Jareth, for his part, was having a mini-crisis of his own. He loved his offspring, truly he did. But he just didn't have it in him to play the father. He simply didn't know how. And his children took his husband's side in almosteverything- not that he could blame them- in a world that was slowly losing its link to reality. He wanted to let go, to pull Toby close and just let go. He could die in someone's arms then, and not alone in a cold bed surrounded by shadowy ghosts who reminded him night after night of why he was going through this.

A memory came to the Goblin King, of a young man who had looked up with fire and passion in his eyes and said 'please' in just that way that enflamed his blood to boiling point. Toby had always made him lose what little common sense he possessed and it seemed the mortal hadn't lost that knack. Then Jareth remembered the present and his jaw tightened- what exact good was there in ruining Toby's life all over again?

"If you could pull yourself together, we'd get this done a lot faster," he said tersely, ripping their bodies apart and standing up.

Toby looked up in surprise and Jareth stifled a curse. Summer sky blue eyes with crystal tears. Jareth had seen Toby cry before this and this... this was the first time he wanted to hit his husband for having those affecting traitors track slowly down his face.

"Get up," he snapped impatiently, "We don't have long before sunset."

Toby didn't bother questioning. Blue eyes lost the light that had sparkled in them for a second and dulled to their usual sullen obeisance. "You're right. You always are." Toneless and trite; Toby wasn't planning on doing more than making sounds.

They walked back out into the strong sunlight and made their way back to the pathway. Jareth sighed as he heard Toby struggle over the pile of rocks in his way, not used to the sharp edges that Jarethlightly jumped over. The Goblin King turned back to grudgingly offer his hand. Toby simply straightened up, looked enquiringly at him for a moment and pointedly refused his help. He offered no more assistance after that.

The scrub got sparser as they progressed, giving way to heated sunlit rock and cold shadows. Toby wanted to scream with the frustration of it all. He wanted to hit something, to throw something, to see someone hurt and bleeding on the ground. But please God, not his family! He'd kill anyone who tried it himself if he had to cope with that.


	7. She did WHAT?

Author's Note: Another short chapter. But I think it highlights just how tense the situation is.

Author's Note 2: 'Dan' is Aidan's Aboveground nickname. I know it's probably obvious, but I just thought I'd point it out.

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"She did WHAT? Man, that's cool!"

Aidan arched an eyebrow and frowned. "No, it is not, Harvey," he growled, "If Arradine gets captured, it could be a lot of trouble for us. She is the heir."

The other boy only bounced on hischair and laughed. "Oh, come on, Dan! Don't tell me that you don't think this is a barrel of laughs."

"I don't think it's a barrel of laughs."

The mirror shimmered somewhat but retained the image. Cassandra was out, thank god, or Aidan would have been explaining every detail about ten times over. His female cousin was the dreamer of the bunch. And Harvey would think it was all a joke. Aidan didn't know why he bothered.

"Stop frowning like that, Dan. I do understand, really I do. But your parents have gone after her, right? It'll be okay. No one's going to want to piss off either Jareth or Toby. I mean- the Goblin King? Besides, Arradine can use a knife pretty good."

"Yes, but she never remembers to defend herself," Aidan complained, "Anyone who knows anything about sharp objects, knows that you can't fight only by attacking your opponent. She'll never stand a chance against anyone with skill."

Harvey shrugged and took another long swallow from the glass of water on his table. "It'll be fine," he comforted.

He watched sympathetically as his cousin slumped on the bed and ran a hand through his golden hair. The other boy was wearing the shirt Sarah had given him a few years ago and it still hung on him a little. There was something bothering him. And Harvey knew exactly what it was- "You still think your father doesn't want anything to do with you?"

Blue eyes shot up to meet a worried hazel gaze and then looked away, obviously not ready to talk about it. "I wish I hadn't told you that," Aidan muttered, "I just knew you wouldn't leave it be."

"Mate, you were ready to scream the castle down about it the last time we talked and suddenly you want to just chuck it away in the back of a dark cupboard and forget? It doesn't work like that. Now talk!"

"There is nothing to say. How is Susan?"

Harvey waved his girlfriend away with a flick of his fingers. "She's having second thoughts again. Why I love that girl I'll never know. But to get back to you…"

"Why do you love Susan?" Aidan interrupted desperately, "You are only fifteen- well, almost sixteen- how do you know you love her?"

A wry smile and a wink and Harvey pushed his hair off his shoulder. "I just always have. I told you, I knew when I was ten. I'm going to marry the girl when she finally makes up her mind. No one else comes close!"

"I suppose she is pretty."

"Dan, we all know you're gay. You don't have to pretend to get it. Speaking of which, have you told your parents yet?"

Aidan snorted. "Neither would understand. They are far too busy with their own personal problems and I think Dad will have a heart-attack wondering if I'm going to end up like him."

Harvey grinned sheepishly and ceded the point in good grace. But he had his doubts. When the conversation was over, he went out to find someone he could talk to. "Dad," he called, "Hey!"

"What?" Ben stuck his head out of his study with an annoyed frown. "Harv, I'm busy. What is it?"

Harvey- like all good sons- ignored the allusion to work that was more pressing that his news. "I just spoke to Aidan. Arradine's run away."

The door opened wider and Ben gestured his son inside with a jerk of his dark head. "I know. Your mother called me this morning to ask if we knew anything. I am assuming we do not?"

"We don't. But Dad, I'm worried about Aidan. He's not looking happy. In fact, he spent the entire morning babbling on about Arradine bringing trouble on everyone. And he's still scared that he's done something to upset Jareth."

Ben sighed. His brother-in-law's kids were subjects he preferred not to involve himself in. But lately he'd found himself drawn into a discussion concerning Aidan far too frequently. His personal favourite was Ereditha; a more engaging child he had yet to meet. Aidan worried him. He was too… apprehensive?

"Dan seems to spend all his time getting worked up over something or other, Dad. It can't be good for him."

Papers got dumped on the floor as Harvey threw himself into the couch, crossing his legs under him. Ben went back to his computer and saved the document for later. "It isn't, son. But there isn't anything we can do. Jareth and Toby are going to have to work this out themselves. And until they decide what they're doing with each other, those kids are just going to have to grow up as best they can. It's the way it works. Talk to Aidan, help him out; but don't for heaven's sake interfere."

Harvey waited for more. His father stayed silent. "That was it?" he asked incredulously, "Arradine's run away. Aidan's going off his head. And all the advice you can give me is to talk to Dan? You're no help! I knew I should have gone to Mom."

Ben laughed and shook his head. "Your mother is still trying to get Toby to leave the Underground and come Aboveground. She reckons he can start a new life up here."

Hazel eyes narrowed shrewdly. "And you don't?"

"I don't believe Toby will ever leave the Underground. Not voluntarily, at least."

"Why not?" The papers scattered as Harvey mistakenly kicked them. "Keep talking; I'll pick them up."

Ben glared for a minute but allowed it to slide. "There's nothing for him up here. His family, his life… it's all in the Goblin Castle. The last time he came here, he moped for four months and stuck a knife in himself. Which I never told you, so don't tell your mother you know."

The papers fell from nerveless fingers. "He tried to commit suicide? Geez! No wonder Aidan's screwed up. His parents are nuts! Why did Toby do that?"

Ben smiled a little and then gestured with his hand. "Jareth," he said simply, "He found out he was in love with Jareth and Jareth had sent him away. It was touch and go for a while, but luckily Jareth found him in time and they both lived happily ever after for a year. And then the war happened. And then after the war, they never worked out their problems. But Toby hasn't ever stopped loving him."

Harvey shook his head in despair. "It sounds like a soap opera," he remarked, "You sure this is all true?"

"Harv, I've spent seventeen years as your mother's husband. She woke me up in the middle of the night to discuss whether her little brother was doing the right thing by binding himself to the Goblin King. She still wakes me up to give me frequent updates. There is nothing that your mom knows that I don't."

"Mom does have a great imagination, Dad. Maybe it's displaced fantasy syndrome or something."

"I don't think she hates either of them enough to put them through all this even in a fantasy," Ben commented whimsically, "What else did Aidan say?"

"Ereditha drenched Fiorle with the old 'bucket-over-a-door' trick. Then she took off out the door and now Fiorle is searching for her, still dripping wet. Aidan's sure she'll turn up in the kitchens for food, so he's going down there to keep an eye out for her."

The man laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges with humour as he thought about his youngest and generally most mischievous little relative. It was just like Ereditha to play a prank like that! And poor Fiorle! Ben had only met him once, but the fairy seemed to have his hands full what with those two angst-ridden adults and three insane children.

"See you later, Dad. I'm going to go see if Cassie and Susan are anywhere to be found. Um, and don't tell Cassie about any of this? Aidan doesn't even know I'm talking to you."

"Then perhaps you should respect his privacy," Ben recommended.

Harvey looked insulted. "And handle him on my own? No fears! I know when I'm no good at something; I need expert advice. And you've always kept your mouth shut when Mom or Grandma talk of that lot; it makes me think you know something more than you say. Have fun with work, Dad. Oh, and we're still going home in a week, right?"

"Susan playing up again?"

"She's got the hots for that Canadian guy at the music store," Harvey sighed, affecting a long-suffering roll of the eyes, "I don't know why she bothers. She always comes back."

The door closed gently behind him and the smile slipped off Ben's face. He looked to his computer and to the piles of paper work lying around the room. He wasn't supposed to be in Canada. He wished Sarah had been able to come too. He missed his wife at times like this. And Arradine running away was no joking matter. He could only imagine what Toby would think, knowing his daughter preferred to be anywhere but at home. It was a saddening thought.

He picked up the phone and dialled a number. Quickly making sure that no one lurked outside his door, he waited for the call to be answered. "Harold, it's Ben. Am I bothering you? No? Good. Listen, I just had a talk with Harvey about Dan and I need some advise…"


	8. Found Out

Author's Note: We find out what the illness is. For those of you who don'tremember what the illness is, look back to the 'Bond of…' fic, to the 'Facts and Figures' chapter. Jareth mentions the illness there.

-----------------------------------------------

"You have got to be joking," Toby breathed, staring upward.

Unfortunately, no matter how vehemently he told himself that it wasn't true, the dragon continued to stand there and glower down at them with curious forest green eyes. The night seemed too bright for thejet-blackscales and long narrow snout. Long wings dropped casually to sweep the floor as the proud creature walked towards them, elegant claws biting into the stony dirt.

Jareth sighed and got to his feet. "Zaraith," he greeted, nodding his head curtly, "My apologies for intruding on your Kingdom in this manner."

The dragon didn't seem inclined to say anything beyond snorting a lot of warm smoke at them. Toby took another step back and almost conjured up a crystal, but stopped himself just in time. Jareth was right- they were trespassing. "We're looking for a young girl, my Lord," he put in politely, "We had word that she was coming here."

The dragon tilted its head as if about to smile at them and then its leathery wings snapped out to full height and folded down to its back. The dragon disappeared with it and a man stood in its place, a smile on his lips and a long black robe taking the place of his scales. "Had word? It is hardly wise to trust rumour."

Jareth stiffened his spine and took a firm hold of his temper. He'd met Zaraith once before. The meeting was not a pleasant one to remember, in light of his current need for secrecy. "I do not trust rumour," he corrected shortly, "She left a note."

Those bizarre eyes glimmered at them and Toby shivered. He'd grown used to the unnatural appearance of eyes in the Underground; but eyes like this? He didn't like them. There was no pupil and no iris. The entire eye was coloured a deep forest green. There was no way to know what Zaraith could see and what he was thinking. These eyes were terrifying.

Zaraith delicately sniffed the air and smiled again, his thin nostrils easily picking up the scent of fear and apprehension. The dark haze of draconite sight was not much help when his prey was standing still, but he could see through the foremost shadowy figure to the brightness of Jareth's silver aura to know who stood before him. "It is a pleasure to meet with you again, King of the Goblins. It has been a long time since the past."

For one wild moment Jareth thought the Draconite Lord would actually reference where and why they had met the last time, but then the male was looking away from him to Toby, slightly shifting his head for a better gaze. Jareth half turned too, holding out a compulsive hand to his bond mate.

"May I present my consort?" he said formally, "I am sure you heard the news."

Zaraith actually looked surprised. "This is your new consort? I had heard you bound yourself to a mortal, but a male? This is surprising news indeed, Your Majesty."

Gloved fingers gripped tighter and Toby stared wonderingly down at his hand, wondering at the tension. "Pleased to meet you," he murmured, looking up to see Zaraith still examining him from head to foot with his eyes.

The Lord of the Draconites nodded, grave and a little terrible to look at. He stood taller than the both of them and he was bulkier. Even as a human he was a formidable person. "The King of the Goblins is never welcome in my realm," he began, turning back to Jareth, "What is it you want?"

"The girl."

"Visitors to my Kingdom are none of your concern. On what grounds do you seek this girl?"

The million-dollar question. The half-goblin hesitated, not certain that he could trust Zaraith. In truth, the draconites were far more merciful to their captives than either goblins or fairies, and their code of honour was legendary even amongst the elves and dwarves. Arradine would not be harmed if she had gone to the draconites claiming to seek sanctuary or knowledge. But as the heir to the Goblin Throne… "She is my daughter."

"Yes, I was told that. She freely admits it. But she seeks sanctuary; I cannot force her to leave."

"She's my daughter," Toby protested, "And she's run away on a misunderstanding! We want her back."

"I do not object to you taking her back," Zaraith owned, "But she has thrown herself on my mercy and the laws of my Kingdom state that I must be satisfied that she will find safety with you. And that, Mortal Lord, will only occur if she so wishes it."

Jareth stayed silent, swaying lightly on his feet. He was beginning to feel light-headed and nauseous- a common enough occurrence when he over exerted himself- but now was not the time for him to give out. He squeezed again unthinkingly on the fingers still in his grasp and then let go.

"What will you demand of me to hear my case," he asked clearly, cutting into whatever it was Zaraith was saying with an impatient bite.

"The Princess does not seem inclined to speak with you, Your Majesty. I should, by rights, turn you away. Your consort is welcome, but she did mention that she never wanted to speak with you. She also mentioned harshness towards your offspring. I would have thought you liked children."

"I do," Jareth snapped, "And I especially like my children. The disagreement between Arradine and myself is none of your concern. Rest assured, however, she will see me if you take me to her now."

Zaraith nodded and smiled again. "I did believe so myself," he confessed suddenly, laughing, "Her denouncement of you seemed to come from frustration more than anything else. Very well, then. I will take you to her myself." He held out his hands to the two of them. "You may take us there faster than I can, Your Majesty. And no one will find you in my palace."

Jareth nodded and whisked them all off, guiding them down to land gracefully in the darkness of a mountain. High above them the top opened to the night sky and Toby blinked up in some surprise, wishing there were more lights to see by.

"Vardan! Hergoh! Torches for our guests," Zaraith said quietly.

In an instant torches flared around them and Toby blinked and took a step back. Until a familiar squeal rang out through the gloom and a young girl in grey breeches and a poet shirt pushed her way through the circle of watchful faces to throw herself at him.

Jareth found his right elbow clasped by a strong hand, the draconite called Vardan restraining him. He didn't really mind. He was about to fall down in a dead faint anyway and the support was welcome. Zaraith stood before him and he noticed a fond look slide over the Draconite Lord's face as he watched the reunion between child and parent. Jareth himself wanted to strangle her more than hug her.

"Arra, sweetheart, how are you? Are you alright?"

Jareth was beginning to sway precariously on his feet, And Vardan tightened his hold, drawing him closer to his side to provide silent support. He said nothing about the emotions that wafted from the half-goblin beside him. It wasn't his place to comment.

"I'm sorry, Dad, I didn't mean to worry you," Arra was saying, sniffing a just a little as she hugged her parent.

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it," Toby snapped, holding his daughter at arm's length and glaring at her. Clearly the relief had given way to frustration on his part. "We were frantic! What the hell possessed you to come here?"

"Fiorle said…"

"Fiorle also told you stories about the outlaws and the way they treat little girls like you," the mortal interrupted, "Don't try to give me that! Don't you know what could have happened f Lord Zaraith hadn't found you? There are plenty of people who hate the Goblin King enough to welcome capturing his heir."

"Yes, well, that seems to include everyone in the Underground, doesn't it" burst out before Arradine could control her tongue. She stared defiantly at her father's stony face, still not forgiving him for what she saw as harshness.

But the petulance had the right effect. The Goblin King pulled his arm from Varlan's grasp, anger obliterating the momentary weakness to stride to his daughter and stare warningly down into her eyes. "I think you have provided these good people with enough drama," he said quietly, "If Lord Zaraith is agreeable, I suggest you go to your room and stay there. I will handle this mess since you obviously have no inclination to."

Zaraith repressed an interjection as he hear the faint grinding of teeth at the bland, dangerous voice. Tales abounded of the returned Goblin King. He had heard how the Labyrinth followed its Lord's example and had notoriously killed two of its challengers and injured a further three. He had heard about the mistreatment of the slender mortal male who was currently staying well away from the argument. But the creeping rumours had said nothing about the impending death by fear of that Goblin King. "I agree, Your Majesty. The Princess has had a long day and I believe she would be the better for sleep."

"No, I won't!"

Toby rolled his eyes heavenward. "Arradine," he sighed, "Go to bed!"

Arradine glared mutinously from her parents to her protector, tempted to remind them that she was no longer of an age to be ordered to bed. She noticed the smile touching the corners of Zaraith's soft mouth and gave up. Her father would simply manipulate her into doing it anyway and Zaraith, though amused, was not planning to take her side in this. "Very well," she said stiffly, "I bid everyone good night."

Toby shook his head ruefully as his daughter's straight back made for the winding stairs that led to the many levels of rooms. He looked to Jareth and raised an eyebrow. His husband nodded and he bowed briefly to Zaraith. "Forgive me, my Lord, I think my errant daughter needs a lecture."

Zaraith waited both disappeared into Arradine's suit. He could plainly hear the soft argument that the two indulged in- Toby reminding her that she was only sixteen and Arradine pointing out that he himself had married at seventeen and at least she wasn't marrying anyone just like that. He motioned to his people: "Return to your activities. There is no need for you here."

They bowed and left, eyes glowing curious colours in the dank darkness, melting away with soundless ease, even their robes not rustling as they moved over the ground.

"Come, Goblin King," the Draconite Lord commanded quietly, "This mess may be sorted in the morning. For now, I believe you need to rest."

The Goblin King, for his part, was going to refuse when he noticed the imperial note in the soft voice. That and the strong jaw did not belong to anyone who took opposition very well. He shrugged and gestured that he would follow.

They proceeded to make their way towards a staircase on the other side of the well-like mountain palace. It was a fascinating place, all things considered, and if the situation had not been so edgy, he would have appreciated the architecture and sculpture. The ground floor was enormous, big enough for an army of dragons to stand easily, the marble floors polished and worn with age to the same smoothness as the surface of a lake on the stillest summer's day. And right around the sleek walls, decorated arches led to rooms that could only be guessed at. The doors themselves were simple structures, but each were fitted with iron handles of a dragon's head. All were connected by the staircases and by stone balconies.

Jareth found his legs were not as steady as he would like, and the distances kept fluctuating before his eyes. It was another side effect of the illness. Disorientation and hallucination were wonders he was only just beginning, unfortunately. Soon they would be a way of life and wasn't he just looking forward to that! The thought made him cranky.

"What ransom will you ask of me?" he asked abruptly.

"No ransom for tonight. Tomorrow is another day," was all the reply he got.

Neither said anything more until Zaraith led them both into a room on the same level as Arradine's but on the other side of the centre. He didn't think either the Goblin King or his mate would want to be disturbed that night. And certainly the half-goblin needed quiet and rest.

He led the way into the simple bed chamber and lit the torches in their wall brackets, pointing his guest unceremoniously to the bed.

Jareth acquired a look of hostile suspicion. He wasn't being obvious, was he? Were draconites that perceptive? No one else knew; no one else could know. Certainly not this creature who was as old as the Underground itself because the draconites were true immortals who never faced death. Zaraith had seen too much of him, knew too much to guess his secret now…

"I advise you to rest, Goblin King," Zaraith murmured, "Dying of fear is never a pleasant ordeal to endure."


	9. One Night

Jareth felt the blood drain from his face but even that seemed too much for his body to take and he thankfully sat down.

Zaraith was watching him, compassion radiation from the silver circlet on his brow to the expensive simply crafted soft shoes on his feet. In his male form he looked almost human- with a broad chest and broad shoulders, the long black robe neither highlighting nor hiding his muscular body.

"How long?"

Jareth shrugged. "Ten years."

To his credit, Zaraith never batted an eyelash. More than Fiorle, he knew just how stubborn the Goblin King could be. "I see. And the mortal does not know?"

"My consort," Jareth corrected, "Has not been told. No one but my healer has. I would prefer it to remain so."

The other male's blond head nodded slowly, the single green-veined opal glittering in the light from the torches in the silver band of office that kept the hair from falling into Zaraith's face. And while the face continued to show sympathy, a hint of disapproval crept into those green eyes. It was a serious illness for any in the Underground, and only those trapped in a particularly powerful fear of something ever succumbed in this way. It said much for the Goblin King's strength that he had lasted ten years, but as Zaraith could see the faint traces of black magic that tinged the silver-thread aura, he didn't need to ask how. It was a dangerous game that Jareth played and he was to be commended from not going mad sooner.

"It is your decision," the Draconite Lord soothed, "Is there no cure?"

"The cure is unavailable," Jareth said curtly.

"Unavailable? To a Goblin King, very little may be classified as unavailable. I think perhaps you refuse the cure."

"The consequences of my taking the cure will harm another," Jareth explained, "It is better that I die."

"Sense should convince you otherwise…"

"Sense tells me I am dying already," Jareth snapped, losing his patience, "There is no sense in ruining another's life trying to salvage another hundred years of a life I have no interest in. All I require is my heir and that is enough for now."

"Your heir? Arradine is the eldest of your children?"

"She is." Another curious thing about the draconites- they never blinked. Jareth had been told by this self-same Lord that the Dragon People- or draconites- could not actually see shapes and colours. They could see the blur of moment and they could see auras. But in essence they were blind.

"Arradine cannot leave my Kingdom until I say so. Wresting her by force will compromise your honour. Besides, she is still young and impressionable. Treating her so will not endear you to her. She does not understand."

"She is old enough to remember her duty to her people, to her heritage," Jareth defended.

"She is young and wants adventure," Zaraith pointed out, spreading his hands helplessly. He stopped for a moment and then continued in a softer tone. "You should understand that."

Jareth refused to rise to the bait. "Arradine is sixteen and quite old enough. I don't demand anything too much of her; she is welcome to her adventures so long as they do not include danger and secrets." He refused to give Zaraith the satisfaction. Of course, he couldn't back down from a fight. "And I was thirteen. There is a difference. And I would prefer if the past remains silent."

"The mortal does not know."

Jareth looked at Zaraith as if the draconite was deliberately being obtuse. "My daughter does not know," he corrected.

"What stage are you on."

"The completion of the first stage. My healer tells me that I have less than a few months for the second stage to take effect. She is overly optimistic." There was a macabre pleasure in discussing his deterioration so openly. Well, more openly than he was used to. He began to actually understand the enormity of what was happening to him. And the reason!

"Your… first consort would not have wanted this for you. He did act as he did out of love."

"You're a draconite. You don't know what love is."

"Neither do you."

"I loved for two hundred years!"

"You obsessed for two hundred years."

"I loved those who were dear to me."

Zaraith shrugged. It was not his business, anyway. It said much for the Goblin King's weakness that he had actually responded so far without evading the questions. "Very well, then. The death of one Goblin King will make way for a Goblin Queen. It is as has been and it does not concern me. Rest now. I will come for you in the morning."

He left, closing the door softly behind him.

Jareth sighed and fell backwards, taking simplistic pleasure in the feel of a soft mattress beneath his back. He roused himself sufficiently to magick off his boots and struggle out of his coat before lying down on his back. The torches continued to blaze on the walls and he didn't mind the light so much. He eventually doused the ones above his bed and left the rest to burn. At the last, he banished the glamour around himself as he settled down for the night… just like he had done for five years now.

It was too warm in the room. Far too warm! His shirt was almost suffocating him. Jareth ignored it sufficiently to think for a while. Thoughts were one thing he could indulge in, and objectively his mind did find it fascinating to go round in circles. Unfortunately those circles eventually led him back to the same conclusion- he couldn't afford to let his children suffer. His daughters, he didn't worry for as much. But Aidan was a subject that made him break into a cold sweat.

The child was so young. True, he was passed his thirteenth birthday, but there were so many years yet and Toby wouldn't always be around to protect him. The mortal didn't understand, Jareth mourned, just how much he was needed. With Toby there, he wouldn't be able to hurt his children. He wouldn't make the same mistakes and no one would be hurt. And Aidan… he barely saw his beloved son any more. He had lived for mornings when he tutored him in the library, but he'd had to give even that small pleasure up when he realized just how much he enjoyed it. He couldn't enjoy that. It wasn't right.

Horrible though it sounded, he prayed desperately that Marjorie really would occupy Aidan's interest. If Aidan were looking elsewhere, he would keep away from him. It was as simple as that- another simple protection.

Jareth's vision was beginning to blur again and he dug his fingers viciously into his eyelids, hoping to ease the pressure. His stomach was roiling and he was only thankful that there was no food in him to throw up. Working swiftly, he banished the thought of his children from his mind and tried to coax his mind elsewhere.

The sound of footsteps were definitely distracting. So the half-goblin lowered his hands, sat up and listened to them stop outside his door before the owner of those footsteps knocked hesitantly.

"Come in," he called.

Toby opened the door with extreme caution. The room wasn't precisely dark but it was dimly lit and he could barely see Jareth's face. Which was not quite nice, considering he was intruding. "Did I wake you?"

"No." The raw silk voice was more hoarse than usual; a little strained as well.

"Arradine asked me to tell you that she's sorry for running away. And for being so rude in front of other people."

Jareth nodded and waited for more. If he preserved his usual taciturn silence, then Toby would leave, thinking he didn't want to talk to him. He did want to talk to him. Jareth desperately wanted to know Toby to know that he only had to endure another two years at most. Black magic wasn't working any more. He didn't have long. He'd keep going for Arradine's eighteenth birthday. Jareth wanted Toby to swear that for those two years he wouldn't do something stupid. He wanted him to stay fit and healthy and, most of all, safe. Their children needed it. The Kingdom needed it. Jareth needed it.

He stayed silent.

Toby flexed his fingers in his pocket nervously and made to go back out. "Sorry I bothered you. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Jareth cursed himself roundly in his head as he watched the door begin to shut. Toby deserved so much better than all of this. Jareth knew how much he hated the stipulations, knew why Toby stayed. And there wasn't room left in him any more to return those feelings, but some small part of him knew that he did care that Toby hurt.

"Is she still angry with me?"

The door swung open very fast. "Yeah, she is. But she's sorry for her comment and she says she doesn't hate you."

"I suppose I should be thankful for small favours," Jareth remarked.

"Don't tease her tomorrow, Jareth. She really does feel sorry. She would have come herself, but she was a little scared that you'd be mad."

Jareth snorted and curled his legs under him. "I won't beat her, you know. That remark was simply uncalled-for."

"Jareth, I don't know if you realize it, but you have a nasty temper. The kids don't want to be on the receiving end of that."

Enough was enough- "I would never hurt my children!"

"But you do say some quite hurtful things. You've barely been civil to any of us for ages."

This was not precisely what he had had in mind with 'talking'. The side of him that wasn't consumed with self-pity told him sternly to listen very hard, to see how he hurt those he cared about, reminded him why he had promised to stay away.

"Jareth, are you alright?" Toby gasped, concerned when the Goblin King put a hand to his head and swayed. He rushed immediately over, just as the mismatched eyes began to glaze.

Jareth's brain screamed at him to stop, to push Toby away before it was too late. But his tongue wouldn't respond and his throat was closing up against the air that began to burn in his lungs. He could feel his temperature begin to plummet and he tried to pull away- he really did- panicking as that golden hand reached for him. He grasped the questing fingers, thankful that he was still wearing his gloves out of habit.

Toby didn't notice, too busy squeezing the gloved fingers that clung to him for dear life as his bond mate coughed and choked. He couldn't really see in the half-light, but didn't think to light the torches. After all, Jareth would only order him away in a minute; just like always. "… deep breathes… in… out… in…"

"I'm… fine."

"No, you're not. I'll get you some water."

"No…"

"Take the damned water and drink it," Toby snapped, thrusting the glass at him.

Jareth only hoped that the water wouldn't turn to ice chips in his mouth. It never had before but it was always not a very pleasant ordeal after an attack. He reached out and took the glass, which is when the unthinkable happened- Toby used his distraction to reach out suddenly and grasp his wrist beyond the glove.

Jareth stilled instantly, eyes caught by an intense blue gaze, frozen in the shock of the moment.

Toby stared at the shadowy outlines of Jareth's face, the deliberate bait of the water in one hand and a corpse-cold wrist in the other. But surely living skin was not meant to be this cold, and the bones never been this prominent? True, the mountain palace was a chilly place, but to an immortal like Jareth the cold meant nothing; he never felt it.

Dual-coloured eyes suddenly blazed with shame and anger as Jareth pulled his hand away. "Get out," he spat, "Leave."

"Why are you… why?"

"There is nothing the matter."

Toby leaned closer and sniffed delicately, moving unexpectedly again to slip his hand into the open neck of the white shirt to touch forbidden skin. He frowned a little, scenting the stench of something he couldn't quite put a name to on his husband. It was a little like the smell of illness, but blander, less virulent. "You're sick," he decided, "Do you feel sick? Does anything hurt?"

Leather-coated hands yanked on his hand and flung it away. "I am fine."

"Jareth, I can smell it!"

"It is temporary and completely under control."

Toby sighed and nodded, taking one last look in those mismatched eyes. They didn't seem too badly glazed or fevered. He couldn't, naturally, see very much of Jareth and so checking for paleness of flushes were out of the question. And anyway, it wasn't as if Jareth would let him near enough. Something hadn't felt right for a long time, but he was tired of always having to ask. If Jareth didn't want to tell him, then fine. He didn't want to know.

Jareth was itching for Toby to leave. He was tempted to order the mortal out. But he didn't have the heart to do so. They had walked together as two strangers and he knew what was in Toby's thoughts when they slept close by but self-consciously in their own little spots. He couldn't be so terrible to someone he had once cared deeply for.

Toby seemed to make some decision because he settled down. "Jareth, I'm not leaving till you tell me what's going on."

The Goblin King blinked in shock. Toby was refusing to leave? His scruples flew out the figurative window. "Get. Out."

"No. Not until you tell me."

A short bark of laughter as his throat seized up again with panic. He was sweating because his skin was cooler than the air around him and he could feel the rasp as he kept breathing. "Why?" he mocked, "For the sake of the children? I assure you it isn't contagious."

Toby shook his head determinedly. "Not for the children," he negated, "For me. Because I'm worried. Because I'm your consort and I need to know. If something happens to you, I'll have to… well, do things." He just couldn't lie. "Jareth, please. I just want to know you're okay."

He knew he was trusting a lot to those slender rays of sunlight in his head, but this was important: Jareth was ill; the immortal never got ill; therefore this was serious. Toby didn't mean to let a little thing like a ten-year separation stand in the way of finding out for once and for all why Jareth was avoiding him.

"You want to know." Jareth was acquiring that pensive little note to his voice again. He summoned a crystal and sent it up, lighting the torches above his bed with a blaze of bright light, forcibly raising his face to the strong glow.

Toby caught his breath, not daring to reach out to touch. The face he remembered had always seemed bloodless, but never frozen, or blue and silver with cold. It was thinner, the bones sharper, the skin stretched too tight in a tensed mask of his warmer memories. Jareth hadn't even looked like this on the journey through the Lawless Kingdom. What had happened?

"I am fine," Jareth announced slowly, "If you care anything for me, you will believe that."

"Oh, I care," Toby breathed, finally tracing the hollow below a sharp cheekbone with the barest tip of his forefinger, "Far too much to believe that. What happened to you? I knew something was wrong but I've never seen you like this, sweetness."

Sweetness… Toby had no right! "You were never meant to," Jareth growled, "And don't pretend that you ever noticed my absence. Not with Fiorle to care for your needs." Insane jealousy exploded somewhere in his brain and he hurriedly took himself away, disappearing out of the bed.

Toby stared in blank bewilderment at the pillow. "Fiorle," he echoed. And then it hit him, along with all the suppressed frustration and resentment. "Don't you dare! Come back here!"

Jareth had not let him hide after the rape. He had pulled him back into reality and insisted he handle the pain. Now Jareth could damned well stop trying to hide himself. Toby made for the door, certain that Jareth hadn't actually progressed too far beyond it. "Stop hiding," he snarled, throwing the door open and startling the Goblin King just outside, "Don't you dare try to hide."

The flash of movement somewhere on a higher level and he didn't care that anyone could be watching them. He did draw the line at having this fight in public, however, and Jareth found himself dragged back into the room and the door slammed to behind him.

"You have no right to be bitter," Toby shouted, "I am sorry for what happened with Gwenél. I've said that to you a hundred times if not more and you just never forgive! You're like a sodding elephant; you never forget! And Fiorle?! Are you insane? Have ten sodding years of bitchiness and loneliness turned your brain? How dare you stand there and… Jareth?"

The anger fell away as he turned back, terrified to see the Goblin King's hand on his throat, clawing at something he seemed to think was there.

"Jareth, stop! You'll hurt yourself!"

There were bruises and scratches on that slender white neck and Toby shuddered as he recalled that the few times he had seen Jareth, the latter had always worn high-collared coats or shirts.

The touch of his bond mate's hands and the intense burning began to recede. Jareth reached out blindly, passed caring that he was essentially asking for help, for comfort, for anything to help stop this agonizingly slow death. Taking one of those small hands and pressing it to his skin, throwing his head back as touch alone helped to sooth the fear. Toby was saying something. Hazily, he could see the wide mouth move, the blue eyes stare at him questioningly. But words were falling in and out as his hearing went to focus on the roaring in his veins. Being pulled closer, and the bond pulling them closer still. He could fight it- he knew he could do it if he really wanted to- but did he want to?

Leaning forward, capturing that delicate lower lip in his mouth- a soft kiss that swallowed the soft words and the softest of gasps; hands moving to tangle in his hair, tugging his face closer; a small, thin, fragile body that pressed against him in instantaneous acquisition.

Toby almost couldn't believe it. He was convinced that he was dreaming. He did, sometimes, dream that Jareth allowed him this close again. But in the dream, everything faded away. With this, he was hyper-aware of the cold bite from Jareth's skin, was well aware of his surroundings and of the inelegant fumbling of lovers who had forgotten slight details.

But then Jareth purred into his mouth. That did it. That rough, rasping vibration took him far beyond his own control as heat flared instantly through him. God, he didn't remember the room being this cold! It was like burning in the middle of Antarctica! But anything was better than the over-heated feel of his own body. Pulling away a little, he felt Jareth kiss over his forehead and hair as he concentrated on getting the thin shirt off as soon as possible. Throwing it away into a corner and swiping his tongue over the too-prominent collarbone.

He remembered the old argument with bitter accuracy- "… used me that night… all about you…"- the blaze of betrayal on Jareth's face when they mentioned the night of Ereditha's conception. Was that what had driven Jareth away? He'd never thought of that before. Did Jareth fear that Toby would try to use him like Archer?

"Hold still, my love. Wait."

Jareth obediently waited, still wary and still uncertain. He shouldn't be doing this. Toby had another lover; he shouldn't interfere with the life the mortal had carved out for himself. And he couldn't endure the questions and the shame of telling. He couldn't! Toby would want to know and if Jareth got better… Toby would eventually die and then the fear would come back. And Jareth knew he could never completely let go of the fear long enough to give Toby the trust he deserved.

Swift kisses over his neck and how had Toby remembered that his neck was a huge erogenous zone for him? Arching and unable to help the little whimper as the sweet mouth trailed over his flesh, hot tongue leaving trails of wetness on his cold skin. Toby swayed lower, fingers hooking into his breeches and tugging them off and away to join his shirt in the corner.

The concerns were back full swing and the Goblin King was no longer as uncomfortably aroused. He stared down in no little speculation, trying to make up his mind. He could still push Toby away. It was a little late, but he could bluster his way through it. His breath was still coming so short, and the world still burned though Toby's heat was surprisingly erotic.

Then the first touch of that scorching mouth and he lost control for the rest of the night.


	10. The Last Straw

Author's Note: Updates will go slower for a while. I have a job now, so that means I get less time to write and more money to do other things... yeah! I actually have a life now!!! I think I might go watch 'Labyrinth'.

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So it progressed. Every day Jareth presented his case to a Draconite Lord that simply diffused his every request to something else. Arradine made no attempt to persuade her protector either; she was excited about this new culture and new place. Neither of her parents could grudge her that.

Every day had something new to be discovered. Every day offered some new adventure. Toby even found himself enjoying the acerbic remarks dropped occasionally by Varlan, Zaraith's male second-in-command. He fumed for the delay, but couldn't help being fascinated.

And every night he went to Jareth's room and fought tooth and nail for his right to wake up in the Goblin King's bed the next morning. Jareth didn't prevent him. Indeed, he paid no noticeable attention to him! If he were there, the Goblin King ignored him in public and fucked him in private. If he stayed away, that charm of manner was lavished on Hergoh or Arradine or a score of others that were gradually learning to accept the shockingly peculiar little family that had intruded on them.

Inlong moments of silent reflection, Toby told himself that he was being ridiculous, that his sympathy for a love story and that goddamned habit of hope had contrived to render him unable to fight the obvious pull of his bond mate. True, he loved Jareth and in weaker moments he admitted that he did desire him no matter his views on his own sexual orientation, but he was practical. And practically speaking even he could see no future in allowing himself to be used. It had been obvious even without Fiorle's worried plea to be careful.

"Make no excuses on his behalf," the fairy had cautioned, standing with him just seconds before Toby apparated back to the draconites' mountain palacefrom a quick visit back to check on his other two children, "His Majesty is capable of great cruelty."

But with every touch and with every night, resolve simply melted, even more so when his lover was always so gentle and considerate. Not that Jareth had ever been physically abusive- there was never a time when he was hurt beyond what he could endure. All the pain the Goblin King had dealt him was emotional.

So on the night when Zaraith eventually announced his intention to come to a final decision on the morrow, Toby found that nothing had changed. Had he taken the time to think, he would never have gone to Jareth's bed or allowed his lover to take him so gently. Had he had the time to be rational, he would not have been particularly surprised to wake up alone either. Of course, rational thought would only come when he brooded on it in later moments. For those first few moments, he was quite simply upset and depressed.

The bed was empty beside him and he was alone.

The room was still dark as pitch, the torches continuing to burn in their brackets, but that was no consolation. They kept bringing back brief flashes of silver-blue skin and lust- filled eyes. The look on Jareth's face when he'd opened to him was burned into his brain. How could it not be? He spent days and night dreaming about making love to his husband again. He couldn't forget so much as one single moment.

Except that the pleasure didn't feel like it was worth the pain of the end.

"Get up, get dressed and get out," Toby recited dully. It was all he could do. Most of him hurt, and whatever didn't hurt was sore, even the joints of his right hand from the way he had gripped the sheets last night.

He should have remembered! But his damnable ability to find hope in a grain of pity had flared again, hadn't it? He supposed it was from being a... well, a Child of the Sun, or what had he. The books predicted that most of them were very hopeful creatures. Which was when he saw it- the basin of water and a clean cloth set out of the table- a clear statement.

"I hate you," he whispered to no one, picking up the cloth and wetting it.

It was ironic, really- this was the first time since he had met Jareth that hewas actually ashamed of letting the Goblin King touch him. He hated that he had to wash away oil and semen because, naturally, Jareth had had to be gentle, hadn't he. He might have hated it less if there'd been bruises and blood and other signs of a hasty decision made in desperation. But the memory of gentle fingers twisting inside him made him shudder again in self-loathing.

This was really the last straw! The cloth struck the wall, leaving a long wet streak. Magicking his clothes on and exiting the room, biting his lip when movement felt uncomfortable.

"Dad!"

"Arradine." He wasn't particularly happy to see her. "Good morning."

"Oh, Dad, I wanted to show you the sunrise," Arradine babbled, almost running down the stairs in her enthusiasm, "But Father said not to wake you."

Toby stopped and looked hopefully at her. "He did?" Arradine knew? Jareth had mentioned something, perhaps? The Goblin King wouldn't have done that unless it meant something! Could he hope again?

"Yes. He said you had had another argument last night and you had stormed off to your room in a temper," Arradine agreed, "He said that all this had been stressful for you. Why didn't you tell me? I- I really am sorry about how much trouble I've caused."

"It's all right, Arra. Just don't do it again." Toby didn't have the heart to be angry. He didn't even care. Well, he would care if Arradine ran away again immediately, but he didn't think she would and so he could concentrate on his own pain.

"Yes, Father said much the same thing," she commented dryly, "Are you hungry? Varlan said that most of the draconites ate in the communal hall so I can take you there if you'd like breakfast. It is close to lunch, though."

For the first time Toby looked at her. "It is? How long have I slept?"

Arradine proudly concentrated and conjured up a clock. "Almost eleven," she pointed out, "And I got my magic two days ago."

"Sweetheart, that's wonderful!" Toby hugged his daughter, hating himself for thinking how much she reminded him of Jareth. "Fantastic; really!"

"I know. Father said he would start my training when we got back to the Castle." Arradine's smile fell. "If I get back to the Castle." At her dad's raised eyebrow, she pointed upwards to the open top of the mountain where two figures stood outlined against the grey sky of a stormy day. "Father's trying to persuade Lord Zaraith to let me leave with you."

"What? But we're your parents! I should think he'd be satisfied with the last few days to know we're not exactly treating you like Cinderella!"

The girl shrugged helplessly. "I do not know why, but they've been there two hours and when I went up to check, Father was getting angry."

Toby looked up to the two figures. His sharp eyes picked up the movements and he could tell which figure was which because Zaraith's green robes were fluttering gently in the breeze, while Jareth's all-black attire almost bended in with the dark mountain. But he didn't want to be up there. He wouldn't possibly be able to face Jareth; there was too much shame and hurt there. "Arradine, I think I am a little hungry. Where is this hall?"

"Come on!"

She led him away, not paying much attention to his depressed mood because he looked tired and she knew how he sometimes got. It was nothing new. Ever since she could remember, he'd occasionally needed to be left alone for a short time when his spirits dropped. Fiorle was the only one who Toby talked to about it, but something that occurred so frequently couldn't be anything to worry about, surely?

The hall was mostly empty, but a few of the guards on early morning duty were taking a late breakfast. They were happy enough to make a space at their scattered tables for the daughter and consort of the Goblin King.

They were a quiet people by nature, talking rarely and content to listen. Each individual had eyes of a unique colour, and the colours ranged from gold to brown to purple to mauve. Apparently the race had been decimated by the war which destroyed the Lawless Kingdom, and Zaraith had seen so many of his people die protecting his palace that he'd been happy enough to agree to keep all the Dragon People in the Lawless Kingdom in exchange for no more killing. The leading culprit had been Jareth's ancestor, making Arradine- as Jareth's heir- feel very uncomfortable at first. But the draconites had lived long enough to know that if friends could be enemies, then certainly the reverse was also true. They were happy enough to judge her on her own merits.

The long day passed with little or no news. Jareth and Zaraith were not seen until the evening meal. But once they appeared, conversation in the private dining room stopped. The two were not precisely smiling, but they seemed happy enough.

"I have made my decision," Zaraith announced unnecessarily, "The Princess Arradine will return with her parents to the Goblin Kingdom."

Toby let out a sigh of relief and leaned back in his chair. Arradine bounced a little, but otherwise took the news with a neatly composed little speech of thanks. For the most part, the draconites didn't much care either way. They had enjoyed the sudden drama of the last few days and now they were ready to return to their normal lives.

As Varlan had put it- "With our longevity, we need never seek our revenge by killing anyone. We simply wait until they die and then attend their funerals."

Zaraith had rebuked him gently for this insult to their guests but didn't treat it as a sentiment out of the ordinary. All three were painfully aware that those who actively disliked them or their positions in life stayed very far away from them. Hergoh, Zaraith's female Second-in-Command had confessed to Arradine the embarrassing opinion that the draconites they had met were only a third of the population.

But for now, Jareth could relax. The intent conversation up on the top of the mountain hadn't actually been about Arradine at all. Zaraith had agreed to let her leave at the start, when Jareth had come upon them watching the sunrise. But the conversation had centred around certain personal attacks on his common sense and famed intellect. Zaraith was of the opinion that he had no more intelligence thana chicken, and Jareth was of the opinion that Zaraith was an idealistic relic of the past that had not the emotional empathy to understand why he did as he did.

The thought of that particular argument still frustrated him. "We leave in the morning," he said brusquely, "Many thanks for your hospitality, Lord Zaraith, but we are anxious to return to our family."

"A pity," Zaraith agreed, looking to Arradine with a smile, "Very well, then. Perhaps a visit someday is in order. I will not have the time to attend to your farewell tomorrow, but Hergoh can handle it in my stead. I say my goodbyes now, and wish you all happiness and good health."

Jareth scowled. "The same for you," he answered politely, sitting down opposite his husband. He sneaked a look at Toby, but the latter was staring diligently at the draconite woman beside him, blinking earnestly into her orange eyes as he seemed to absorb her words with the utmost care. It was not a pleasing sight.

Varlan shot a look from the Goblin King to his consort and then looked to his Lord, affecting the smallest traces of a 'God-help-us-all' look. It was obvious to most draconites there that the two males had been in the grip of fairly strong emotions for most of the trip. And no matter how much soap and water was used, the residue of sex was easily scented in their culture. Both avoided each other all day and then slept together at night? It was peculiar situation and Varlan had been more than vociferous on the absurdity of it all in more private moments.

The Draconite Lord shook his blond head slightly and clapped his hand for silence. Picking up his goblet, he raised it to Arradine. "You may always seek sanctuary amongst us, Your Highness. May you live a fulfilled life with much joy and good fortune."

The toast was duly drunk, Arradine accepted the good wishes charmingly and that was all.

Toby stayed in his own bed that night and Jareth flew out for the night in owl form, roundly chastising himself for even having had the gall to get into such a situation. He was dying. There was nothing he could do about that because there was no real cure. There was a preventative and there was an easing. But cure? He couldn't be cured. Not until he was certain that he wouldn't ruin another innocent being's life.


	11. The End

The journey back was much simpler than the journey to find Arradine. Jareth took Arradine, and Toby took care of himself. In no more than a blink of the eye, they were back in the Goblin Castle at the centre of the Labyrinth.

Jareth let go of his daughter's hand and made for the door. He didn't feel up to talking to anyone just yet.

Toby watched him go with as blank an expression as was possible and walked in the opposite direction. The only problem, the door on that side didn't open. Just another trick door in a fantasy Castle.

He sat down and proceeded to stare at it.

Was this what reality felt like, unravelling the marvels of the universe before his eyes? Because doors weren't simply put there to look like doors, they were meant to open, Goddamn it! They were meant to lead somewhere! Passages didn't take you back to the point you started from! There couldn't possibly be more rooms than could fit in a medium-sized Castle. Storms couldn't be caused by an excess of emotion and certainly people didn't glow in that unnecessary manner.

Without even realizing it, Toby remembered the big guy with the spectacles who used to sit next to him in history class and look at him from the corner of his eye when the dreams had hit him so hard in public. The flash of mismatched eyes; the silver-blond hair; the way Jareth's hand always fit perfectly in the small of his back or on his shoulder or cupping his face… all that had only heightened when they'd actually met. It was all just one big fantasy, wasn't it? But there was no room left for fantasy.

"Dad?"

He turned slightly to see Arradine staring down worriedly at him. His daughter, wasn't she? Or was she another fantasy? "Go get your brother, sweetheart," he told her, "Try to keep Ereditha occupied elsewhere. The three of us need to talk."

He waited until she left before sinking back into his thoughts. He was numbed now, but he knew with a nauseous certainty that by the end of the week he'd be in a miserable amount of pain. He'd felt this once before; it couldn't possibly get easier with time.

It wasn't even that all the dreams had been nice ones! Sometimes he'd had dreams about someone who'd made him a person he didn't recognize, who made him do things he didn't want to do but couldn't refuse. Remembered being terrified of that irrational and unpredictable temper. The jealousy- Jareth showing him off like a prizemare at some place or other but insanely jealous when he tried the same thing on his own.

Jareth was too self-absorbed. Nothing had changed. He was still too self-absorbed. Toby wondered how he had managed to delude himself for seventeen years into believing otherwise.

_"Things are never as they seem… life is just a masquerade ball… I am as I am; don't mistake the matter…"_

And Toby had committed the cardinal error, hadn't he- he'd fantasized about some fantastical creature who was bound to have more hidden depths than an underground lake. All he'd got, was Jareth. That was what was wrong: he didn't know Jareth. He knew this person in his head who was perfect even in his faults and he had a general idea of this perfectly passionate life of making love and being a family.

His mom and dad were in love. But he'd foolishly never taken the time to note that they probably didn't have sex every night, or spend too many hours aday having long discussions on life and how lucky they were to have each other. Sarah and Ben were in love and Sarah still complained that Ben was a secretive idiot who never discussed things with her. Both couples fought and scrapped and argued about bills and who picked the kids up from baseball practise. His dad still burnt the toast and his mom still forgot to send her sister-in-law a birthday card. Sarah spent an inordinate amount of her time proving defensively that she was right about some trivial thing and Ben stoically ignored the entire issue until he'd had some time to think about it. But they were in love!

And there was the difference.

He was in love with someone he wasn't married to. Or was he? Nothing was as it seemed, but the possibility of new discoveries was sadly flat- full of doors that wouldn't open and passages that led nowhere, so to speak. Reality was making a very concerted effort to break into the little world he'd hidden himself in for ages.

So he sat there on the carpet, with his back against the door, and waited for Arradine to come back. They managed it in an hour, Aidan murmuring that he was glad everything had worked out. Toby couldn't find enough happiness in himself to smile even at his son. Idly he hoped Jareth would stop neglecting the boy so very much.

"Sit down," he said, pointing to two chairs.

Arradine had changed from her adventurer's costume of grey breeches and poet shirt and now wore a distinctly pretty gown of patterned chiffon. Both were utterly gracefully in their movements, even looking puzzled and wary. Very much like Archer had been- graceful even in death.

"Arradine, sweetheart, will you be very upset if I left?"

Arradine's blue eyes widened. Aidan opened his mouth, but Toby wasn't looking at him so he held his tongue. The Heir to the Goblin Kingdom was speechless; she could only shake her head in confusion, her long uneven-lengthened hair pinned up at the base of her neck.

Toby looked to Aidan. "Aidan? Love, will you mind?"

Never mind the embarrassing endearment, Aidan thought for a moment and then- ever the thinker- came up with the most important question: "Where will you go?"

"Aboveground," Toby answered, "I'll stay with Sarah for a while, until I can find my own place. I don't want to leave you, but I- I think I must. Don't you?"

Aidan and Arradine shared a look and then fidgeted. "We don't precisely want you to go," Arradine muttered, "But I think we understand. It's Father, isn't it? He's not been very good to you."

He hadn't been very good to Jareth either. "No, he hasn't."

"When will you leave?" Aidan asked, concerned with details. He didn't like emotions. They tended to intrude into life and create chaos. He preferred tangible things that he could escape from by hiding in the library or in the forests.

"I'm going to the Place of Time tomorrow to say my farewells to the elves," Toby decided. He thought for a little longer, scratching his stubbled chin lightly. "I guess I'll leave at the end of the week." No longer than that, he knew, the pain would be unbearable by then.

Emotions be damned! "I don't understand it," Aidan burst out, "Why does he treat you like that? What did you do?"

"I? I did nothing," Toby gasped, shocked that Aidan would blame him for this. With a moment's thought he realized that it was only to be expected. And perhaps it would be better if they thought it was his fault; after all, they were staying with Jareth and he didn't want to cause tension. "Never mind. There were reasons on both sides."

Arradine growled at that. "Stop making excuses," she huffed, "You've always done that. Every time he did something nasty, you made another excuse for him. I love him dearly, but you never deserved to be treated as he treats you. He's humiliated you time and again, robbed you of any self-respect and purpose and…"

"Stop." Toby held up a hand and shut his eyes. He didn't need this now. It hurt enough without remembering. "I know you feel badly for me, sweetheart, but I can't take that just yet."

There was silence for a moment as he composed himself.

Aidan spent the time looking dispassionately over his dad. He could understand why his father had desired him enough to marry him. His dad would have been sixteen when he first met his father- his age. Now, at thirty-five, he didn't look very much beyond eighteen, though he was meant to look around twenty-one. And his dad would have made a good lover. He was patient and honest and open and even his faults fit in so well with what his father needed in a mate. So why had everything gone wrong?

"I know you think that one or other of us is to blame," Toby said, "But I promise you it's nothing like that. If you need to know, I love your father. But contrary to what you may believe, that love cannot transcend everything else. Even considering the three of you. And Jareth evidently doesn't feel… well, I think you know his position on this. I want to try to live a life with someone who actually likes me. I don't want to leave, but the Underground has too many memories. I'm mortal. I was meant to live Aboveground. I'm sorry if that hurts you, but it's the only chance I'll get to find some kind of peace."

"Will- will you be very unhappy if you stayed?" Aidan asked, uncertain now because first his father and now his dad. The world had never been very steady, but even the last few iron supports were falling down now. "Just for a few more weeks?"

"Yeah, I will. I love you very much but I need to leave. I wish I could have stayed for your birthday, but it will be too late by then."

"Do you want to leave?" Arradine's question.

Toby thought over that. A life with no hope and no real purpose versus a life with no hope but perhaps his own rules. "Yes. But I need you to tell me that it's okay, that you won't hate me for it."

They looked at each other again, two children being asked to be more grown-up than they needed to be. "It's okay," Arradine said slowly.

Toby didn't try to touch them, or hug them. Arradine was close to tears as it was and Aidan was clearly waiting to go out and bury himself in a book or something, anything to forget this conversation. He wished it didn't have to be like this for them. He wanted a happy life for them, not this horrible parody of a divorce.

Now all that was left was to tell the other person involved. He ran Jareth to earth in the enormous feasting hall, sitting in a normal wooden chair at the head of the table and thinking alone.

The Goblin King looked up as Toby entered, suspicious instantly and on his guard. Night was coming up and he couldn't- wouldn't- let another night like that the previous three happen. It couldn't happen ever again. Toby deserved better. Toby deserved someone who wasn't what he was. Toby deserved….

"I'm going home, Jareth. I don't care what you threaten me with any longer, I'm going back to the Aboveground and this time I'm staying there."

Jareth blinked and stood up, not quite sure why but confident that he needed to be alert for this. "You cannot do that," he murmured, gesturing to a seat, "You can't!"

"I can, Jareth. You don't own me. I'm not getting younger and I don't have forever to live my life. I need to leave."

"You have a life here. And if you think…" Jareth lost his temper. Somewhere in his head he knew he wasn't shouting, that his voice was perfectly controlled and modulated and that Toby flinched as each sentence found its target.

"Don't you understand, even now?" Toby asked tiredly. Jareth had been mocking him for fifteen minutes straight. It had made him only more certain of what he needed to do. "I'm leaving. If you want to chain me here, then you'll have to kill me first. Don't mistake the matter, Jareth- I don't want to die. I never have. But I will prefer to die than be chained up."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Jareth growled, "I do not want to chain you, but you will stay here. This is where you belong."

"Why?"

Jareth blinked, a little off-balance.

"Why do I belong here? Because I married you? Because I love you? And don't even think of bringing the kids into this. Jareth, I do love you. Can't you see that? I gave you everything inside me and you threw it away the next morning. If you don't want what I am, then what do you want? I don't know. You just take and take and never tell me anything. I don't know what you want."

Toby dropped his head into his hands, still sitting at the table, his own words ringing in his ears. He didn't want to think about it. It should never have been like this. In all Fiorle's stories, the lovers were reunited in the end. Love was supposed to win in spite of the pain so why did it feel like the pain was for nothing? He knew he was crying but he didn't care. Not any more. Jareth had seen him cry before and if he mocked him now for his weakness, then the mortal didn't care.

"I love you," he whispered again, "But you don't seem to see it. Why must I stay here when it's killing me?"

A small sound, as if Jareth wanted to block out those words and he looked up, to see the Goblin King standing still as a stone statue, his hands clenching and unclenching by his side, eyes wide with hurt and bewilderment.

"I'm mortal. I will die and I won't have lived. I wait all day for the children to be kind enough to come to me and I wait all night for a lover who doesn't want me. I told myself it was all right. I promised myself I could stand it. But I can't. I just want to go home, Jareth; I'm so sick of being lonely."

The Goblin King felt the tug as his chest tightened so hard he couldn't breathe. It felt like the world was ending around his ears. His vision was going hazy and he could barely make out shapes and colours any more. It hurt somewhere in his gut to hear this. His heart ached for Toby, but he was more concerned with what would happen afterwards. Toby would leave. He didn't know about the rules and the children… oh God, Aidan! He whimpered slightly in his throat, the sound sticking in his dry mouth at the thought of what his sweet son would endure.

He couldn't do that! He couldn't be that!

"Toby, no." His voice was hoarse, cracking with the strain. "You can't leave. Please, my elf, you can't."

Toby shook his head. "What will change if I stay? Will you even talk to me; try to find some common ground?"

It would be easy to say yes. He wanted to say yes and truly it would achieve what he was trying to accomplish if he said yes. Toby would stay. Aidan would be safe. He would get the energy to live on- Toby wouldn't even feel himself being drained. "No," he said, "I can't. You don't know what you ask of me."

"Am I so unattractive?" Toby snapped, "Or so boring? I'm sorry, but if we're not trying make this work then I'm leaving."

"Who will take care of the children? Of Aidan?"

Toby got up, his face set inharshlines. "I'm hardly here to be their nanny, Jareth. Besides, you're here. You're a good father and you can take care of them."

The most revolting thought of all! "No!"

"Yes, Jareth. I won't leave right away, but in a few days. If you want to chain me, I suggest you get on with it."

Jareth grabbed Toby's arm and yanked him closer, snarling in fear like any wild animal. "Don't you think I won't do it," he warned, "I will chain you if I have to."

Blue eyes looked straight into his, firing him instantly with the quiet assurance in them. "No, you won't. You don't like chains and you know I don't either. You won't be that cruel, no matter what else you do to me. I know you. You'll kill someone without thought, but you can't torture them. It's not in your nature."

"You don't know my nature…"

"I know you. Let go of me, Jareth. You don't have the right to touch me ever again." Toby tugged his arm out of the tight grasp and walked away, shutting the door softly behind him on his way out.

Jareth sank to the floor and tore at his shirt to get it off him. It was boiling hot where he was. He couldn't breath and his vision was deteriorating so fast that he couldn't see. He sank into unconsciousness without another word.


	12. Hasten Home

"We can't tell him," Arradine hissed agitatedly, "He'll come back and then he'll never leave."

"We do want him back," Aidan snapped, walking impatiently around his sister when she didn't get out of his way, "Honestly, Arra! Anyone would think you did not want Dad to stay with us."

The older girl drew herself up to her full height, eyes flashing with answering fire. "I happen to want my parents' happiness," she growled scornfully, "Which is precisely why I do not want him to return! Father has put him through enough without scaring him like this. He's probably drunk; you know how much wine he consumes."

This, unfortunately, was precisely the wrong thing to have said to Aidan. He himself agreed that his father was many things not precisely of the best sort. But a drunk?! He spun on his heel and grabbed his taller sister by the arm, dragging her with brute strength to the question-mark door in the stables. "Father's bedroom," he ordered roughly, shoving her in his haste.

The door took them without delay to the silver and blue suite- still luxurious, still enormous- but cold and filled with the winds that blew around the Castle without ceasing. The Labyrinth lay spread out below the open window, its glory and pride restored in ten short years to something more taxing and awe-inspiring than before. The Goblin City lay at the feet of the gothic castle, tiny figures continuing their simple existence in the way all goblins had done for centuries.

And on the bed was a still figure that Arradine never remembered seeing quite so still or unmoving.

"Bloody hell," she swore, reverting to the language her dad used in intense situation, "What happened to him?"

"If this is drunkenness, I have never seen someone this drunk," Aidan commented acidly, "He has been unconscious since last night! Fiorle helped me carry him to bed and we never said anything to Dad because we thought the same way. I returned this afternoon and he's still in the same state. He hasn't even changed position! I don't know what to do."

Arradine almost whacked him on the back of his golden-blond head. "Call Lorelei, half-wit! She is his healer!" She hastened to the bed and laid a hand on the Goblin King's brow, hoping there was no fever. Immortals never got sick, but there were rare times when strange illnesses struck. And Jareth had gone out to a village on the borders of the kingdom just a few weeks ago.

But there was no fever. Arradine couldn't even make out the existence of life, so far as temperature was concerned. Startled, she snatched her hand back and stared at it, feeling the nerves in her fingertips register extreme cold. "Oh heavens, no," she remarked, before bounding onto the bed and shaking him. "Wake up! Come on, wake up!"

"Arra, stop it! This is not going to help," Aidan shouted, yanking hard on herarm to stop her, "You'll break his…"

The sound of a sickening crack and Arradine blinked. Had Jareth's shoulder just moved beneath her hand in that terrible way? That crack couldn't possibly be breaking bone… could it? "I just broke his shoulder," she said softly.

Glory of glories, Jareth took the pain-filled opportunity to groan and shift.

"Arra, get off the bed!"

She complied and took a moment to breathe deeply, her nature asserting itself to take command of the situation. Not for nothing was she her Father's daughter and the heir- "Get Lorelei. I'll ask Fiorle to help me with Father in the meantime. Once you've sent Lorelei here…" she stopped for the smallest second "… go for Dad. I think he will want to know."

Aidan waited with her, both of them staring in bewildered shock at the wreck of someone who had always seemed indestructible yet now looked too slender and mortal. The drapes had been tied back, it was true, but the shadows still left his entire upper body in the shadows. The rest of him was covered. Arradine was vaguely aware that he was damp with moisture. Perhaps something that was the opposite of a fever?

Making her decision, the girl stripped the blankets away and then turned to nod to her brother. "Go," she urged, "I'll get Fiorle."

"Send Ereditha down to the cooks," Aidan agreed, "She loves the kitchens and it will keep her away from here."

He turned and hurried out before Arradine, making his way to the stables, already calculating in his mind which horse was the best. He fretted silently because his own favourite mount was in urgent need of a new shoe. The others were none of them used to hard paced journeys like this. They were never kept for that! And neither Jareth nor Toby had kept horses because they either assumed animal form or apparated to get to where they needed to go.

The powerful snort and sounds of hard hooves turned his head to the side corral. The stallion!

Aidan had always had an affinity with horses. Indeed, he was horse-mad and his was the vote that had filled the stable from a few useful mounts to the thoroughbreds now housed within it. He leaped lightly over the wooden fencing and approached cautiously, hoping his thundering heart wouldn't frighten his prey away. He held out his hand and stopped two feet away.

The stallion snorted again and drew back a step, champing slightly with his large, sharp teeth.

Aidan whispered soothing words in the goblin tongue before giving up. "I need your help," he pleaded, "My Father is ill. I must make a journey."

The stallion flicked his ear and skitted forward threateningly.

The boy jerked back and considered simply taking another horse. Wracking his brains, he gave it one more try, reverting to the goblin tongue to maybe make more sense. After all, his brain laughed hysterically, if it was a horse in the goblin kingdom, chances were it understood a few of the words. It worked.

Ten minutes later, he was up on its dark back being propelled through the air by the strength of four very powerful legs thatstretched with rhythmic ease. In a matter of minutes, the stallion had barrelled through the Goblin City to the little house that Hoggle and his bride had taken when first married. Lorelei was out. But Wellis brightly promised that his mother could be found in the old pub down the street where the landlord was suffering from indigestion.

Aidan grimaced but ran down the street, throwing himself through the door with an audible gasp and a flair that brought the solitary drinker to spill his ale.

"Bless my soul," the old goblin squawked, "And what be's you doing here, Your Highness? Ain't no drink for you till you is old enough, you knows."

"Never mind that, where's the healer?"

"The dwarf? Upstairs in Bammer's room," the goblin supplied. He thought for a moment as Aidan took the stairs. "Why?" he called after the slender back. But it was too late. The Prince had disappeared from sight and the drunk old goblin was left alone again.

Lorelei paled when she heard what had happened, but wisely said nothing. "Likely it ain't nothing bad," she comforted, "He don't keep no care of hisself, does he? Just tired, what with all the running around."

She'd expected him to call her on hisarrival back, asking for a quick check-up on his condition. He was deteriorating fast, and no mistake. But when nothing had been heard from him, she'd assumed… well, the wine and black magic hadn't seemed to work anymore but she had thought for one night it would patch him up. And now look! Well, he was a silly old goat and she'd always said so! And that Fiorle hadn't had the decency to call her before?

Fiorle was actually wishing for her at that very moment. None of his arguments had prevailed against getting Arradine out of the sick room and he'd eventually had to let her stay so as not to waste time. But he did put her to good use, motioning her to keep the Goblin King somewhat upright as he got his shirtoff of him.

"He is far too cold for the air," he explained cryptically, slashing theshirt coat open so that the broken shoulder wasn't jarred. Eventually by cutting it up the side all the way to the wrist, and continuing to the neck, he managed to get it off.

Arradine set her teeth against the shock as she saw her father in strong sunlight. The glamour had worn off as it always did with unconsciousness and he looked every day of the past ten years. She couldn't understand what was happening. Why was the half-goblin so cold? She had felt the skin on his chest helping Fiorle get the shirt off and that too was cold. Why was his skin tinted blue as if water ran under that transparent skin? Even his lips and eyelids were blue! There were bruises on his skin that looked as if he'd had far too many accidents over the past month or so. His neck was scratched as if someone had raked their nails over his flesh with the single-minded desire to draw blood.

Fiorle understood her confusion, but there was no time for it now. On principle he hated seeing an immortal die from fear. It had happened enough in the Underground to be a wide-spread fear that most people grew up learning to guard against. It occurred to him that Arradine was far too young to succeed to a Kingdom just yet and her legal guardian had to be contacted right away.

"We need to contact Toby," he said tersely.

"Aidan has gone for him," Arradine said instantly, "And I sent a message with the joclers." The joclers were serpent-like creatures that moved exceedingly fast through an underground tunnel-system that only they knew. They were often used to send messages from one end of the kingdom to the other. "He should be back in a day."

Fiorle nodded.

Lorelei arrived fairly soon after that and took charge of the situation. She sent Arradine straight out and ordered Fiorle to strip the half-goblin completely. "Too warm," she insisted, "Put a sheet on him. Something thin, mind; he won't tolerate nothing more."

The fairy did as was needed and then took pity on Arradine, letting her back in when Lorelei's back was turned. The Princess looked pale, but determined, her mouth set in grim lines as she took in the prone figure on the bed. It was a disturbing sight. The Goblin King was usually a nervy creature, unfailing alive as only someone like him could be. Even with bloodless skin and in a deep sleep, he had looked alert and conscious of everything around him. But now he looked dulled and… dead.

"Hold him still," Lorelei told them, "I's going to have to set his shoulder again and he won't like it."

Arradine looked disgusted and took the other side of him. "Shouldn't you give him something for the pain?" she asked.

Lorelei ignored the question and motioned to Fiorle to tighten his grip. "One… two… three!" She tugged his shoulder back into place with a series of sharp pulls.

She's been right. Jareth's eyes shot open as the pain penetrated through the thickest fogs of unconsciousness to tear him back into reality. He shrieked and tried to pull away, clearly disoriented.

Arradine could swear that he was babbling something in the Old Language, but she couldn't hear much over the sounds of Fiorle trying to calm her father down and Lorelei yelling at someone- anyone- to hold him still while she bound the arm in place. A few words however sounded as if they were addressed to someone called Archer, begging him to stop, to help, to do something to take the pain away. She gasped as his leg almost kicked out of her grasp and tried not to notice that the sheet had almost slipped down his hips.

Eventually the bone was set, and Fiorle managed to hold the smaller, thinner male in place for long enough to let Lorelei complete the bandaging. By then, Jareth was silent and frighteningly grey-faced, his eyes closed as he absorbed the pain slowly into him instead of fighting it.

Fiorle got off him and Arradine let go.

Jareth moved his right hand and hissed. "Another break," he groaned, "Set it, please." He used the other hand to pull the sheet securely around him. He felt as if the entire world was trying to sit on his chest and right then he knew at least one rib had been cracked. "Ribs."

Lorelei compressed her lips but set to work to patch him up. "Stay away," she advised, dissolving a brown powder in water and holding it out to him. But his hands were too weak and it took too much out of him to move them. So Fiorle took the glass and helped him to drink down the painkiller.

Arradine just watched from her position beyond his immediate range of vision, pale and scared.

"Wear gloves," Jareth rasped, looking at Fiorle, "Too cold." He couldn't even form complete sentences any more. The drug began to work and his world started to swim, tipping from one corner to the next.

The fairy grimaced and looked around for a pair of gloves. Jareth's gloves had been discarded on the table and he picked them up, slipping them on simply because there was no time to do otherwise. One look at Arradine had said that she would be no help. Jareth would still feel enough pain that he might struggle. And his body was clearly beginning to give out.

"How did this happen?" he whispered, looking to Lorelei.

The dwarf shook her head and picked up the Goblin King's hand. His eyes were closed and if the little line between his eyebrows hadn't deepened imperceptibly with anticipation she would have said he was asleep. "A shock," she whispered back, "No other way he gots like this. He weren't this bad when he left. But who knows? I ain't seen him for days!"

Fiorle nodded. He knew what the shock was. Toby had made the decision to leave and been very surprised when his friend had vehemently opposed the plan. The fire-blondhad finally told him that it didn't matter what he thought, he was leaving. And so Jareth had collapsed. After his life? Fiorle couldn't really blame him.

"Stop talking." Jareth was still ordering people around, even in this half-dead state. "My daughter."

Lorelei raised her eyebrow and looked to Arradine. "What abouts her?" she asked carefully.

Jareth opened his eyes and looked down to the still figure beside his feet. "I'm ill," he murmured laconically, "Not simple. Arradine… what's wrong?"

The girl stifled a frightened whimper and moved to the sunlight, sitting down by his side and touching his face. The cold never affected her nerves, but she winced at the corpse-like feel to skin that should have been so familiar and yet never had been. She was aware that Jareth was watching her, his mismatched eyes fixed on her face with a kind of desperate intensity that surpassed the drugged glaze.

"Nothing's wrong," she answered finally, "How do you feel?"

The ghost of a smirk. "Tired," he admitted, "So tired." Nothing for a while as he just looked at her. She was his first-born, after all, and he was so fiercely proud of her. Even now he somehow noted that she put aside the confusion and stayed in control of herself. Good girl, his mind said approvingly, back straight and chin up. Just as his heir should be.

Then the smirk slipped. She wasn't his heir any more. Toby was leaving. Jra-gurgh! Oh God, what would his children do? Ereditha was young and mortal; he could send her with Toby. Sarah would make sure she was fine. But Arradine! She was the heir and then… then nothing. And Aidan. Oh God, there was only one way around this and Aidan was it. He would have to… he didn't even want to think about it. Please, Gods of both worlds, if only this couldn't happen. If he could be strong.

He didn't even realize that he had begun to struggle until Arradine let out a shout and held him down. He couldn't breath and vaguely he was aware that he was trying to get out of bed. If he could find Toby, he'd lock him in a tower. Just for a few more months- just a little while until he died. He'd be forgiven surely, once the mortal was told why. His elf; his velvet goldmine… he loved him but for Aidan's sake he would chain him in the Castle.

"Stay down!"

The entire room seemed to be a blur of emotion and the amount of magicks running rampant in the Castle was phenomenal. The full-length mirror in the corner smashed and crumbled to glittered glass. What might have become of the rest of the room and themselves was left to speculation because Toby suddenly appeared out of nowhere, barely adjusting to the slight unsteadiness of transformation to stumble to the bed.

"Lie down," he growled.

The sunlight was screaming in his mind. Not just little rays, this time, but a full-blown star that blazed so bright it gave him a headache to try to concentrate on what it was telling him. All he knew was that Jareth had to be controlled, that his bond mate needed him and needed him immediately.

Hands gripped at him and pulled him down, the icy-cold a familiar feeling now on his face and his arms. His teeth were on edge because of the sudden rush of energy through the currents in the room and he bit back a short expletive to fumble above the bed for the little cavern with its hidden chains. He knew what Jareth wanted. The half-goblin whispered it to him over and over. And he knew what it was that was driving him crazy. He jammed his hand into the little niche and yanked out the silver chains, attaching them instantly to his own wrists and holding his hands out to Jareth to take.

"It's all right," he urged, "I'm here. You've chained me. Now lie down. For God's sake, lie down, now. Arradine, get out of here!"

This time the Princess fled, unable to stand any more.

Jareth began to calm down, still wild-eyed and rambling incoherently about something. But his speech was slurring and he kept stroking the chains, falling exhaustedly into a kind of half-asleep lethargy. With a little stroking and a few whispered promises made into one ear, he was asleep.

Toby reluctantly sat up next to him and shuddered down at the chains on his wrists. "I hate them," he panted, "God, I hate them."

Fiorle stood back and just looked from one to the other. "How?" he asked.

The mortal looked up, his hair in his face and still untidy from the frantic trip back to the Castle. In answer he touched his chest above his heart. "Felt something," he supplied, "Something was wrong this morning. Felt it get worse and I was on my way back when I ran into Aidan. He told me. And then I felt the explosion."

Lorelei wrinkled her brow. "Explosion?" she repeated, "what explosion?"

Toby pointed to the window. "The Labyrinth. Jareth was so upset he tore open the earth. What's going on? What happened? Is he sick?"

Lorelei looked pointedly to Fiorle. The fairy was the one who knew Toby best and it was best that he tell him. Besides, she didn't like to say anything because the Goblin King hadn't wanted his consort to be told. It felt like betrayal to say something without his permission.

Fiorle sighed and took a few moments putting the sheet back onto Jareth before sitting down and leaning forward intimately. "I'm sorry, Toby," he said sincerely, "But your bond mate is dying. He- he has a fear, something that is so deep and consuming that it is- quite literally- eating him alive. I cannot tell you what this fear is, but it is killing him. He has not long to live now."


	13. The World Falls Down

Author's Note: So far into the story and I guess this is rather redundant, but- this chapter- theWARNINGOF ADULT SITUATIONS IS REPEATED. There will be incest in this chapter. If it disgusts you, do not read. If you cannot stomach it, do not read. I do not condone it; I do not condemn it. People involved in it are driven by forces I cannot understandand I humbly admit that.

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For a week, the entire Castle was told that the Goblin King had had a slight accident that required him to stay in bed for a while. Toby was astonished at the little pilgrimage of grim-faced goblins that came to the Castle with little gifts of produce or flowers. From Jareth's window he could look straight down on them and the line stretched from inside the entranceway to the City.

"It is tradition," Jareth said quietly, "There is no finer feeling on their part." He sounded almost bitter.

Toby looked around from the window and rubbed absently on his wrists. He didn't have to wear the chains for the most part if he was in Jareth's room, but when the Goblin King went to sleep, Toby put them on to keep his mind comfortable. Dying! It was a horrible thought; one that he slithered away from rather than accepted.

"I'm sure they appreciate all you do for them," the mortal commented comfortingly.

Jareth laughed for a minute and then shook his head. "My people could care less whether I get well or die. I have an heir who is young enough to become a good Goblin Queen, dedicated to her people and to her Kingdom. That's all they ever required of me. And why not? I have no patience with them!"

Toby stayed silent for a while, wondering what fear could possibly be so bad that Jareth would let himself die slowly for ten years before confessing it. He didn't think he should talk about, though. Perhaps a change of subject to something more cheerful? "Aidan's birthday is come up."

Jareth felt his breath hitch. "You're not leaving, are you?" he asked immediately, rigid with fear.

Blue eyes narrowed at him and the half-goblin cringed back just a little, feeling his eyes look down and away in shame for having betrayed himself so very thoroughly.

Toby had- in all honesty- meant to avert this subject. In his experience Jareth had spoken when he wanted to speak. But Toby was also aware that most of the major revelations in their lives happened by accident. His rape had prompted a closer relationship, his attempted suicide had prompted the engagement, and marriage had given them three wonderful children. Of course, the marriage had also trapped him in a fantasy land with an insanely possessive husband and no life whatsoever, but that was another matter.

The mortal left the window and advanced purposefully on the bed, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt with a determined hand. Jareth read the intent in those blue eyes and hastily scrambled out the other side. He was clothed enough to risk leaving the room and he really didn't want to talk. He couldn't! Even the thought made him hyperventilate, made him want to fall to his knees and beg for mercy.

Toby skirted the bed and got to the door before him. Back against the beautifully planed wood and he was set. "You're dying, Jareth," he said coolly, "They told me it was a fear. You mentioned this once before, when we met in our dreams, didn't you? You said it was a terrible thing when goblins died of fear because they are a strong people."

"They are," Jareth agreed useless. His shoulder had reacted violently to the sudden movement and his heart was hammering so loudly he was surprised it didn't break through his already-damaged ribs.

"Lorelei says this has gone on for ten years and now you won't lasta year more."

Jareth didn't want to die. But he didn't like the pain either and he preferred to die rather than let his worst nightmare come to pass. "I won't," he agreed firmly, "You need only wait a year. If it is longer, I shall kill myself."

"I don't want you to kill yourself."

"I would prefer to die rather than…"

"Rather than what? Never mind; it doesn't matter. I won't let you kill yourself." Toby had never been more certain of himself than on this subject. "You were not meant for death, and I will not let you die like this."

Jareth stayed silent, swaying lightly on his feet. Neither his colour nor his fragility had improved and he shouldn't have been on his feet at all. Indeed, he shouldn't have left his bed. A simple fall could break his neck at a time like this! His bones and tendons were just too weak to take any more pressure.

"Lorelei says this can still be cured… if you tell me what it is. Aidan scares you. The mention of your father scares you. And one more- your first consort? Were you really married before?"

If fear had been a creeping disease before, Jareth now knew it was more like the encroaching sea at high tide. "You do not need to know," he insisted, trying to make his way away, but not succeeding. His right hand throbbed horribly and swift movement was difficult when his ribs hurt too.

"I do," Toby insisted, blocking the path at every turn and twist, "Tell me."

"No!"

"Jareth, you'll hurt yourself."

"I have lived through worse," the Goblin King snarled, "Let me pass."

"No!"

"What is it you want from me?"

"The truth!"

"Then yes!" The word stopped them both in their tracks. Toby because it was the answer he had sought, and Jareth because he simply did not believe he had actually betrayed himself. The mismatched eyes were wide in horrified betrayal. "I was married to someone else. Will that suffice?"

"No! Tell me who it is. I'm not angry; I just want to know. It's eating you up inside, Jareth, and I can't bear that. Please!"

The Goblin King shuddered visibly and crumpled. Toby caught him just moments before he hit the ground. He sat down on the floor, too small to hold his husband up even though Jareth was so thin through his illness as to weigh almost nothing. The shudders continued, wracking through the tortured body for long moments in time.

Toby resorted to cradling him close, trying to share body warmth. He whispered soothing words to calm the fear he could almost touch. "Just tell me," he pleaded, "My love, you must tell me."

"My love…" Jareth echoed, voice cracking on the words as his throat seized up with the cold, "Shouldn't call me that…"

"I will call you what I damned well like," Toby snapped, "Now just tell me."

"Can't…"

"Can! Before I force it out of you."

Jareth shook his head as if denying the words, the iciness abating somewhat with his husband's efforts to warm him. Touch… he had lived without warm touch for so many years. His children had been all that had kept him alive for the ten years he had spent alone. And it had taken too great a toll on his mind and body.

"My…" the word stuck in his throat, making his retch helplessly on the floor even though he had eaten nothing in the past two days to be sick with.

"Your what?" Toby asked urgently. It was so close. Jareth was so close. Lorelei had promised him that Jareth would have a chance to heal if he admitted this. "Your what?"

Time stopped. "My father."

Toby didn't even realize he was holding his breath until Jareth looked up, mismatched eyes tortured in the extreme by the confession. Things were falling into place, fitting like a jigsaw that had suddenly become clear. The fear Jareth had felt at being a father, the promise he'd extracted from Toby to protect their children at all costs, the way that he studiously avoided Aidan with that desperation in his eyes- Jareth was suffering the trauma of abuse?

"Oh God." When Toby spoke, he didn't even realize until the words were out of his mouth. "Oh God, that's horrible."

The eyes dropped to the floor and Jareth cringed away like a dog expecting to be kicked any second.

"Love! Jareth, no, I never meant it that way. Come here." He pulled the Goblin King back to him, wrapping his arms tight around him in spite of the painful injuries and beginning to rock soothingly. "It's not your fault. That bastard; God, that bastard deserves to die."

"He's already dead," Jareth choked out, the shivering back with full force. His fingers felt like ice and the air he breathed was so warm it burned in his lungs. It hurt to breath and he was so tired, so very tired. "I had to watch him die. Why did he die? He said it was his time, but why? We had so much time left."

Toby frowned. Those words didn't sound quite right. They almost sounded as if…

"I loved him so much. Why did he die?"

Oh God! Toby clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming at that sad little voice. Archer had hinted. He had stood there with that infernal smirk on his face and hinted:

'_Do you remember the nights when you held out your arms to him and begged him to love you… soiled and tainted; you are so deliciously twisted, my dear… two hundred years did you spend… the entire Underground turned away… your own mother refused to acknowledge you… "_

Archer had stood there and played on those childhood traumas, calling it beautiful to see Jareth like that. His father! He barely noticed when his husband slipped off into an unconscious fit, murmuring silently and whimpering as the pain continued to crash through his system. How long he sat there cradling the inert form was anyone's guess. Lorelei and Fiorle found them like that at dusk, Toby staring quietly into space and Jareth unconscious in his arms.

The news spread slowly through the Kingdom that the Goblin King was ill, that he was in fact dying of fear. No matter how dark the days had seemed, or for how long the murmurs of dissent had been whispered throughout the land, no one deserved to die such an agonizing death. But there was hope, some people said. Some spoke of the King's mortal bond mate, brought out of his prison finally to help the King overcome the illness. And others spoke of how the King had been drained of strength fighting such a losing battle for ten long years.

But in spite of Jareth's inability to wake himself from the haze he had fallen into, no one dared to hazard a guess as to what exact suffering it was that had thrown the half-fae headlong into this.


	14. Memories

Author's Note: Just to let you know, there was a slight mix-up with Chapter 11 because I originally forgot to upload it into the story. A couple of you might have read the story without it, which is fine. You didn't miss much except what happened on the last night with the draconites and Jareth's collapse. But it's a good emotional piece to lead into Chapter 12, so take a moment and read back over it.

Author's Note 2: The memories in this chapter are clearly italicized in bold and are segmented in the flow.

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Toby was frantic, spending all his time in the blue and silver bedroom with Jareth. The windows were once more open to the wind and rain, and the drapes around the bed were pulled steadfastly back, exposing the unconscious Goblin King to the elements.

Lorelei spent a large amount of her time with him, helping him try to bring Jareth around. But nothing seemed to work! Fiorle was too busy with the kids, trying to keep them in some kind of functioning order. After all, if things ended badly- and Toby really didn't want to think about that- if things ended badly, it would hit them less if they had a routine to return to.

"Please, love, wake up," he whispered, not attempting to sponge the greying face on the white pillow for the simple reason that the water would make no difference, "Aidan needs you, Jareth. And Arradine is too young to rule herself let alone a Kingdom! And Ereditha misses you. You promised to paint her one day and you haven't even started it yet. You have so much to do still, love, you have to wake up."

Hoggle would occasionally knock softly at the door, fearful of entering without permission but wanting to help. "Get some rest," the dwarf would say, "I can watches him for a couple of hours. Wellis is spraying the fairies today, so I gots the time."

"Thanks, Hoggle. I'm right here, but in case I don't hear when something happens, wake me up immediately, okay?"

A nod from the big head and Toby would curl up in the bed, on the side he used to sleep on. He couldn't touch Jareth. The Goblin King was too fragile, too cold. He repelled people, and those who fought that extreme discomfort touching him brought were always risking his safety. But sleeping far enough away was a comfort that Toby afforded the both of them. It made him hope wildly that whatever had troubled Jareth about his departure would ease if the half-goblin knew he was right there.

Not that it had ever worked!

And time was growing shorter. He could feel his own strength draining. Jareth's body was not responding. Nothing happened- he just lay there. Toby would have gone out of his head having to administer sponge baths and changing soiled clothes or bed linen, but even that was preferable to this complete stillness .

'_The fear of the immediate future acts as a deterrent to the sufferer's living abilities. Studies have shown that the life force of magical creatures is strong, and the body and the spirit share a unity that fights death until the sufferer himself chooses death. The combination of the fear and this united strength of body and spirit places the sufferer in a condition of passive denial. The sufferer usually chooses not to live the perceived immediate future, instead entering a frozen state of unconsciousness in which the body and the soul are literally halted in their passage through time to stay firmly within the present moment… Jra-boon-hei verdos-gh, i dightough ana saer verd: The fearful unlive, in hope not to face fear_'

The book fell to the sheet and Toby wanted so much to say something meaningful. Maybe if he promised that whatever Jareth feared would not happen? But the Goblin King could not hear him and… well, the rays of sunlight in his head promised him that it was out of his hands now.

He shut his eyes and tried to rest, the fine linen beneath him soft against his tired skin.

Hoggle watched over them both, uncomfortable seeing them in bed together. While they weren't exactly curled up together and making love, it was still scandalous according to the Underground code of polite conduct for him to sit in a monarch's bedroom while he was in bed with his consort. Never mind that said monarch was two steps away from his after-life, and that the consort was exhausted.

Hoggle pitched his eyes somewhere on Jareth's right hand so that he'd see movement, but didn't have to spy on anyone. Sarah had asked him to come for Toby. Lorelei had asked him to come for her sake, for when she couldn't be there. Toby had simply been grateful and humbly taken all the help offered without once asking for more. It was as if the mortal was unaware of anyone else in the room beyond the half-goblin-half-fae creature driven so far into his illness; Toby did what needed to be done and if someone volunteered to do it for him he didn't object. It simply was not important so long as it got done.

And that book. Toby had been reading through that book for days now, having found it in the drawer of the desk in the sitting room. With every page he lost more hope and Hoggle was beginning to think that this would all end very badly.

There was no movement.

Hours passed, days passed and Toby found he had to leave the sickroom because a decision needed to be made about Arradine. Gringol was dead- had died two years ago- and there were few nobles that the mortal could trust the Kingdom to. There was a general murmur that Arradine should be crowned, seeing as how it was only a matter of time before Jareth died, and Arradine had responded to the tentative suggestion by bursting into tears and refusing to leave her room.

Aidan was like a ghost of himself, sitting for days on end in the library and ignoring such mundane things as sleep, food and sunlight. If he wasn't staring into space, convinced all of this was somehow his fault, then he had buried himself into one of the many books that came to hand. More than the girls, he was devastated by the news. Like Toby, he seemed to derive some strength from finding out everything he could about the illness.

Hoggle looked up as the doorhandle turned and the door slid open a little way. A small silver-blond head poked its way into the room and blinked inquisitively at Hoggle. The dwarf flapped a hand at her, trying to tell her to leave. This was no place for Ereditha and everyone had done their best to keep her away from all the unpleasantness. Now here she was, bright enough to know that whatever she was curious about lay in this room.

She trotted in, ignored Hoggle and climbed up on the bed. Most people tended to forget that nine-year-olds were not that innocent. Red played her cards beautifully, but the downside to being the pampered little one was that she never got told anything important. Which was where her willpower came in.

"Why's he sick?" she asked Hoggle, touching her father's face. A quick glance at Toby told her that her dad was only asleep. "Is he hurt badly?"

"He's, uh… yeah. He's hurt badly," Hoggle ended.

"Aidan said he was dying. Is that true?"

"Yeah."

"I do not want him to die."

Hoggle thought about that. "I don't wants him to die neither," he admitted, "Ain't no fun without him strolling around, yelling at peoples."

Ereditha giggled and nodded. "Lorelei said he could get better," she suggested.

Hoggle thought about that too. His wife had told him categorically that a cure was only ever affected in this later stage by someone who whole-heartedly took the cure and burned the fear out of themselves. The Goblin King wasn't even conscious to hear any reassurances, let alone fight his fears. No one expected to see him live more than a few months.

"Red?" Toby asked drowsily, sitting up at the sound of voices. He left the bed and came around, pulling his little girl into his lap and burying his face in her neck. She smelt sweet and fresh, like spring. "Why are you here? I told you to stay with Fiorle, didn't I?"

"I wanted to see Father," she said plaintively, "Why won't he wake up?"

"Because he's sick, Red. He- he is very sick."

Ereditha narrowed her eyes. "Is he dying?" she asked. If her dad said yes…

"Yes. He's dying."

"Oh."

Toby studying her face and waited for her to saying something. She didn't looked much like Jareth but she was the only one who approached him with no trace of fear. She alone had spent time with him in the library or his art rooms… his art rooms! "Come on, Ereditha. I need a walk and you need to leave."

"Can I touch him?" she pleaded.

"He's not an exhibit in a museum, you know. But okay. Just be very careful not to press too hard." It wasn't that Jareth would break under a poke from that tiny finger- perish the thought- but more likely that he would suffer a mild bruise. But Toby couldn't bear to see him hurt more than he already was. He waited while Ereditha's gentle fingers brushed through his hair- tugging out an alarmingly large handful even with that attempt not to harm him- and then scrambled off the bed.

"Where are we going?"

"Upstairs. I want you to show me your father's art rooms."

Ereditha walked pleasantly enough beside him, her hands in her pockets and a grown-up look of severe gravity on her little face. "Haven't you been there?"

"Only once. I wasn't often allowed there," Toby murmured distractedly. The arched windows were nearby. He remembered those; he had always stopped for a second to look out the windows to the Labyrinth when he'd passed to and from his bedroom. But that was all in the past. He remembered a ball once, when he and Jareth had made their slow way back to their suite at the end and stopped at one of the windows to kiss.

"I wasn't allowed either," Ereditha pointed out confidentially, "But I still went. Father was very angry when he found me there, but I told him I liked his painting and then… oh! I, um, wasn't supposed to say."

"I'll pretend to forget." Toby had no intention of forgetting. He'd stopped keeping his curiosity to himself. How much damage he had done, simply because he'd been afraid of causing a scene! If he had questioned more, forced Jareth to talk, manipulated him and charmed him into revealing all these things, Jareth would be dying in a bed. Their marriage might have ended, but Jareth wouldn't be dying! That was all that mattered! "In here?"

He pointed to the staircase that led up to the turret and stopped as a memory washed over him.

-----------------------------------------------

"_**Sire?" **_

_**Jareth turning from the staircase, wrenching his mind back from the simple thought of taking to the skies to relieve this insane frustration niggling at his soul, blinking a little as he saw Arienne smiling at him. The way Arienne had looked- not so old, not so sombre- smiling with delight to see the Goblin King he had watched grow from a child. **_

"_**Arienne, I require your aid." Jareth had known he needn't stand on ceremony with the healer who had helped calm a terrified thirteen year old in the day following his wedding night. "There's something wrong with me but I don't know what." Complete confidence that Arienne could cure him of anything. **_

_**And Arienne's kind smile; the look of understanding and amusement in his eyes when gestured his readiness to help.**_

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Toby blinked rapidly clearing his head of that memory. Where had it come from? Surely it couldn't be something he'd seen because it was the day that Jareth had found out about their bond. He knew that somehow. He shrugged mentally to himself and followed his daughter up into the tower.

Basically, it wasn't a tower, but the upper floors narrowed to the studio-like room that he had visited with the news of Arradine's latest escapade. Ereditha had already run up the stairs and Toby followed, taking the stairs two at a time in an effort to keep up.

Then he was inside the room and it was dark. No windows in this part of the Castle; Jareth protected his artwork and personal collections of books and papers with a jealous eye. It was not unduly dusty, nor was it damp or depressing. It felt like a much-loved room that hadn't been visited in a few days and was kept guarded against intruders.

He spotted the same old guitar lying in the couch and picked up. Like most boys his age, he'd learned a little from friends and from his dad. But what he knew he had long forgotten. But the instrument was kept tuned and obviously properly strung and cleaned. He contented himself with a few chords and then set it down, only to be hit by another memory.

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"**Gina, put that shit down, you silly cow. Now come here and show me how to use this thing."**

"_**Aw! But Jareth, honey, you're no fun! I thought we were going to go do something!" **_

_**The dim electric lights shone with a mellow tinge on the three strikingly vibrant paintings on the wall and the black leather couch. The red velvet drapes looked imminently mysterious with the same inflections and the woman sitting cross-legged by the table was scowling at her male companion as she sniffed and wiped her upper-lip before reluctantly obeying. **_

"_**We will," Jareth promised, "Once you show me a few chords."**_

_**The guitar was on his knee and he was running his fingers reverently over the strings with a deeper depth of feeling than that with which he touched his latest girlfriend. He respected this thing of wood and string, loved the raw sound that came from it when a knowing hand touched it. And like any artist, wanted it to be his hand that could draw out that sound.**_

_**Gina plopped herself down next to him and took the guitar with a grumbled expletive. "You're taking me out dancing after this, you hear? God, if you weren't such a good lay I'd drop you."**_

_**Dramatically made-up mismatched eyes gleamed wickedly at her. "Show me the chords and I'll take you to that T-Rex concert tomorrow. I'm sure Marc Bolan would love to meet you."**_

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"Marc Bolan?" Toby echoed, "Who the hell?"

"Here," Ereditha said authoritatively, tugging on his hand to draw him to a corner where a large something-or-other was covered against the dusk. "Father showed me this once. Take the cover off."

Toby obeyed and then gasped. Below the dustcovers was a graceful old cabinet with a mint-condition record player. Packed into the shelves below and into neat boxes on the side were more records that Toby believed one person could have collected. But his daughter was already on her knees, sifting through the shelf at the bottom for one particular one.

"Here," she said again, pulling one out and showing it to him. "Father played it for me once. I liked him.There is a photo in there."

Toby took it out instantly. His husband looked back at him, but not the way he remembered. Still with the same hair and the same superior smirk, but now with a come-hither gleam in his eyes and a layer of make-up that would have made a geisha faint. His arm was around another man, this one with long, tightly curled hair of the kind that used to be called corkscrew curls. Elaine had worn her hair like that for a dance, once. It had looked ridiculous on her but on this Marc person, it somehow fitted, making him look like a mischievous pixie in mortal clothes and glitter.

So these were Jareth's memories he was getting? Looking around, he suddenly realized with a start that there were four hundred and seventy years worth of memories here! What was going on? Was it just the emotions lavished on these things that he was picking up on?

No, it was more than that, he decided. Those memories never just poured into his head unless…

Blue eyes widening, he turned to direct another stare around then enormous room crammed so neatly with its treasures. '_Love?_' he sent out mentally, '_Jareth, can you hear me?_'

There was no answer and he wasn't expecting there to be. Jareth was too lost in unconsciousness to be reached this way. But, like the glamour, the barriers must have faded without the constant upkeep. Toby could feel through the link again.

Those waves of depression and heart-stopping wrenches of pain hadn't been all his, then?

He looked down to his daughter still patiently to be noticed. "Thank you, Red," he murmured, throwing his arms around her and dropping a loud kiss on the top of her head. "Thank you so much."

"Dad! What are you doing?" she asked wriggling around like a little fish, though she wasn't trying to escape the embrace.

"I have a lot of work to do, Ereditha, but I want you to do something for me," Toby ordered, "Go down and sit with your father. Don't touch him, don't kiss him, don't even try to do either of those things, okay? But if you want to talk to him, that's fine. If anything happens, call a goblin and send him up for me. Can you do that?"

"All right," she agreed dubiously, "But what are you going to do?"

"I'll stay up here for a while, Red." Toby risked another look around. "There's a lot of things to see."


	15. Strategy

Author's Note: For some reason, having no time makes me write faster! Or maybe I'm just obsessive. Here's another couple of chapters, so enjoy, please. And yes- poor Jareth.

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No one could blame Arradine for walking away from the meeting with her new advisers. In fact, any of the advisers who noticed were frankly glad to see her go. Her presence at the meetings were not required in most cases, all that was needed was her signature to the documents that the clerk gave to her.

But Arradine minded. She hated that she sat at the meetings feeling like a fool unable to comprehend what was going on. It felt horrible when she sat in the Griffith Chair and everyone looked at her, waiting for her to begin. It felt even worse when they all argued amongst themselves and ignored her. Damn it all, she was the Head of the Kingdom until the King either recovered or died and she had ideas of her own that she wanted to implement!

She burst into Aidan's room only to find him at his favourite pastime- talking to his cousins, newly returned to their home after a trip to Canada. Cassandra was back in her hippy phase and was busy plucking at her guitar while seated at the desk, Harvey and Aidan off on their tangent.

"I can't take this any more!" Arradine shrieked, slamming the door shut and flopping down in front of the dresser, "Harv, will Sarah have me if I get Dad to send me there?"

Harvey stifled a smile under the obvious misery on Arradine's face and Aidan's frown of concern. The two were closer even than Harvey and Cassandra; if Aidan was worried, then the situation was serious. "Mom will have you any time," he assured, "And if she doesn't, you can stay in my room and I'll smuggle food in here for you. What's up?"

"Up? I wish those bloody nobles were up, that's what," the girl howled, slamming her hands on the dresser, "Up, and gone! They are idiots, the whole lot of them!"

Cassandra looked up from her guitar. "It can't be that bad, Arra. Are they being nasty? You know all adults think we teenagers have no sense."

"Teenager?"

Aidan sighed and prepared for another screaming tirade.

"They cannot even see me as a teenager! I am a child to them; that's all! A bloody child! They ignore me when I say something and patronize me when I don't! What the devil am I supposed to do?"

"For one thing, stop shouting," Cassandra suggested. The girl put down her guitar and sat down next to her twin, wrapping a casual arm around his waist for support. "Have they said anything in particular?"

"Yes. They said I was young and inexperienced."

"Well, you are."

The girl shot Harvey a look that might have killed had she had enough power. As it was he held up his hands in surrender and made a zipping motion over his mouth.

"There are villages being pillaged on the borders we share with the Fae Kingdom and the goblins are naturally up in arms about it. My advisers," Arradine spat the word, "suggest sending a troop of scouts out to make sure that we really suspect fairy patrols for this. Pah! Cowardly fools!"

Aidan agreed on this point so he shook his head despairingly. "Tell me you never agreed," he pleaded.

"No, I argued, just like we planned, but they wouldn't listen to me. Finally someone said that we could put it aside for later, when everyone had had a chance to think. Why can they never see that time is of essence? We need to act and act swiftly!"

"Whoah!" Harvey made a stopping gesture and looked shocked. "You're not suggesting you start another war with the fairies while your father's dying, do you? No one will ever take you seriously if you do that and lose. Maybe your advisers have a point. How'd you know it's fairies anyway? It could be outlaws or wild animals."

"It's fairies," Arradine said positively, "A handful of villagers in each case escaped into the surrounding lands and managed to evade capture. They testify that it was a troop of fairies. From their description of the uniforms and the persons, I am inclined to believe them."

Harvey ceded the point with good grace. "Fine, then. But rushing in can really make a big mess. Why exactly don't you want to go with your advisers?"

The heir shared a withering look with her brother and then explained- "They want me to take precious time to scout the land for signs of something I am already certain of. Basically, they are not sure and so they want to double check and take the time to decide. Unfortunately, if I'm right- and I know I am- it will look like a sign of weakness on our part. And the fairies will get bolder and just keep going."

"But your Father…"

"My Father would hate for me to sit in that chair and just hum and haw like a simple-minded toadstool," Arradine snapped. She ripped the pins out of her hair and let it down over her shoulders. "He would never condone this! If he'd been awake, he would have sent an immediate letter to King Armand and demanded that these fairies be turned over to him. Not punished- turned straight over to him. No excuses. And this will make me look bad in front of the entire Underground! If I cannot protect my people, then what kind of queen am I?"

"A terrible one," Aidan put in plainly, "Arradine, you have got to get out of this habit of effacing yourself! Go in there and tell them what you want. Suggesting things don't work with that lot."

"I have to admit he is right," Cassandra admitted, "Fighting for what you believe in can only work if you're willing to fight. Personally, I think your people should rise against you and stage a revolution, but if you want to be a complete tyrant just like your father then you have to go for it."

Aidan growled and raised his figurative hackles.

"Come off it, mate," Harvey sighed, "You know Cassie's spouted that shit to Jareth's face and he's only laughed it off."

"I have the utmost respect for your father," Cassie soothed, "But he is a tyrant!"

"At least he's a tyrant with honour," Aidan remarked scathingly, "He doesn't hide behind hypocrisy but works around it to do what he needs to for the good of his Kingdom and his people. So put that in your bong and smoke it!"

Arradine suddenly realized that they were still talking about Jareth in the present tense. Such arguments had happened often enough and they all sounded the same- Cassie would denounce their father as a tyrant or an oppressor or something of that sort and Aidan would get defensive and swipe with his claws. It was shocking, considering that the subject of the conversation was lying unconscious in his room and helpless. He was dying and they were still pretending that nothing was wrong.

"Something's wrong," she muttered vaguely.

Aidan twigged on instantly. "With us? Yes. And the only way you'll beat it is by taking charge. I can't; I am not the heir. You have to. If you want people to respect you, then you only have to do what your instincts tell you."

Cassie and Harvey were watching them interestedly through the mirror, still sitting side by side on the bed, one in faded denim and the other in sweats, identical down to their straight noses. "What was that your dad used to tell you when you were younger? You know, when you lived with the elves?" Cassie asked.

" 'You were born a Princess'," Arradine supplied, "He used to say it like it was a fairytale."

Harvey shrugged. "Well, it is to us," he pointed out, "You're a real life Princess and real life Heir to the Goblin Throne. When your father pops it- which I hope to God he doesn't for at least a hundred years yet- you'll succeed to one of the most powerful magical positions in both our world and yours. It is a fairytale."

"But it's not! I still brush my teeth every morning and pee when I need to and feel hungry and horrible and get headaches and stuff. How am I supposed to be this perfectly modulated Head of State with all the answers?"

Aidan actually burst out laughing two second before his cousins did. All three were rolling on the bed on their respective side of the mirror and laughing so hard they cried. "From- from where did you think you had to be perfect?" Aidan gasped, sitting up weakly with support from the bedpost.

"Father…"

"Throws tantrums when he feels like it, kicks the goblins when he gets upset and bounced rashly into marriage with a mortal male of sixteen. Who said anything about perfect?"

Arradine mused on that for a while, a rueful smile of her face. "That is true," she admitted, "And the meeting is still going on downstairs."

"Go get them," Harvey encouraged, swinging a fist through the air, "We'll talk to you guys tomorrow. Okay? Oh, and Mom said to tell you that if Toby needs her help looking after Jareth, she can take a month off and come down."

"No, I think Dad's coping just fine. Ereditha's watching Father with Hoggle or Sir Didymus and Dad's spending a lot of time in Father's art rooms. I don't quite know why. We will tell him, though. Give our regards to everyone and give Sarah and Grandma a hug from us."

They waited only until the image faded before planning. Aidan grabbed hold of Arradine's hands to calm her and told her exactly what she needed to do. He'd been trying to tell her this for days! It was the only way to make sure that the other goblin and half-goblin nobles didn't steal the Kingdom out from under them. Not that any of them dared while Toby was there and Jareth might still live, but the threat was evident.

"Dress," he said, "I'll come with you, but to be a Queen, you have to act like a Queen. Impress them. Make them understand that if anyone has a decision to make, it is you. Understand?"

Arradine had nodded and shared a smirk with him. It wasn't a pleasant smirk. It was the smirk of two people who were planning ruthlessly to superimpose their will over all others.

Arradine swept down the two doors to her rooms and flung open the door of her closet, sifting hurriedly through the racks for something she knew would give the impression she wanted. Her fingers clutched at a soft, forest green fabric and she drew it out, a hesitantly soft smile on her face as she saw a pair of forest green eyes in her mind once more. But now was not the time for a crush, and she hastily began to dress. But the time she left her room, she had left her hair down over her shoulders- a physical reminder of just whose daughter she was- and the forest green dress outlined all her slender curves without revealing one inch of the skin from her high-necked collar to the floor-length hem. Soft elven shoes finished off the look.

Aidan was waiting for her, leaning against the walls outside their room in black breeches and a curiously made white shirt. His hair had been pulled back with a jewelled clip. But it wasn't what he wore that made Arradine falter, but the object in his hand that he offered.

"You took so long that I went to Dad and asked his opinion," Aidan said, "He said that those nobles probably deserved it and if he had had the guts to do the same, Father would have been rescued from the war a lot sooner because he would have known of the failure sooner. He sent this down for you and said you have free reign of the original adviser's room."

Arradine stared down at the medallion. She remembered touching it when she was a child and being told not to play with it. It had scared her then, for some reason. And Aidan handled it carefully but with assured grace. He didn't shirk from it. Even when he put it around her neck, he didn't seem to fear the power or the emblem.

Arradine straightened up and nodded to him. "The advisers' room, then."

"Oh, and I sent orders down that it be cleaned," Aidan added carelessly, "I hope that is acceptable?"

She cast a surprised look behind to her younger brother but nodded. It seemed the task of helping her take their father's place was a distraction for his personal pain. And he was very hurt, she knew. All three of them suffered the sense of loss but Aidan was Jareth's birth child; he felt it more keenly than all of them and especially because of his rejection over the past few years. But now there was no trace of weakness in the blue eyes. They glittered with intelligence and knowing, a piercing look that cut through her own defences so that she felt the answering gleam rise into her own eyes.

By the time they hurried to the small room with its staircases and throne, the goblin servants were just cleaning the last traces of grime from the stone floors. The chickens had gone with the so-called 'advisers' Jareth had surrounded himself with and the barrels of ale and dirty cushions were now far away. The room was spotless and stern once more.

Arradine seated herself in the throne and Aidan took up his stance by her right hand, picking a familiar riding crop up off the floor with a painful little smile. "Here," he teased, handing it over, "It will look quite elegant with that gown."

A dark slanting brow rose, thinner and neater than the original but clearly a hereditary trait. "Do you mock me?" Arradine asked coolly.

Aidan tilted his head affectingly, arrogance radiating off every particle of him. "Not at all, Your Highness," he murmured.

"Good. Then give the command for the entertainment to start," Arradine laughed, leaning back with a slender white hand on the curved arm of the throne.

Aidan duly complied with her wishes and in a few minutes, the goblin nobles were shown into the room, all muttering and grumbling and looking resigned to pampering the whims of a spoilt princess. What they got was a dangerous stare from two people who might have been children but were as determined as their parents.

"Sit down," Arradine said quietly, gesturing to the chairs that had been set out, "We have a lot of work to do and I suggest you hurry so we can get it over with."

"We already have a few things that we require your signature for, Your Highness," someone said.

It was an unlucky thing to say. The riding crop had been tapping gently against the leg of the throne for a while now but at that, it whisked down hard enough to serve as a dire warning. The goblin noblewoman spluttered and readily gave up the papers to Aidan's imperious hand.

"Thank you," Arradine said tersely. "The first order of business will be the attacks on our villages by the fairies."

"Your Highness, we have yet to wait for confirmation," another half-goblin put forward haughtily, not liking this turn of affairs, "We cannot just rush into this blindly as before. Let the scouts do their work. They will return in the next week and we will act then with full faith."

Two pairs of murderous blue eyes were turned to each adviser in the room until all tensed in the thick air.

"You deliberately sent the scouts out without my knowledge?"

"We deemed it the most reliable course of action."

Arradine made a motion of her head to bring Aidan forward again. "Go down personally to the barracks beyond the Goblin City," she ordered calmly, "And tell them that any who go out on this foolish task without my say-so will be whipped."

Aidan bowed and made to leave.

Insulted, the one who had given the order stood up, overturning his chair in a rage, his scraggy face reddened with irritation that a slip of a child was to give orders. "Your Highness, listen to reason! This is madness…"

"Silence!" That was not Arradine but Aidan. "I am sure you fear nothing now that my father is not here to sent you to an oubliette with his crystals, but remember a contingent of guards will work to the same ends should the Princess order it. Do not try her patience."

And then he was gone. Arradine let out an internal smile.


	16. Backtrack

Author's Note: The memories are again italicized in bold.

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Toby continued to look through the studio. He wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, but he was certain that there was something in this room that might help him understand Jareth. Anything at all! At least it would show him what precisely his bond mate was running from.

The books were filled with scribblings and general notes. Surprisingly, Toby found copies of Aboveground philosophical works and a cupboard full of classical and high-literature novels. And then he found the set of ledgers.

At first, they were just thick books bound in tooled leather. They were hidden on the top shelf of the third cupboard from the fourth easel. He'd opened one expecting it to be full of another fairytale, but it had contained a row of figures. He'd almost stuffed it back into place distastefully when he realized what it actually was.

It was written in the Old Language, but he could read that by now. Brethiliaur had once taught him and Fiorle had completed his education. He pulled the first volume out and sat down in one of the armchairs. He opened the first page and was transported instantly to what he was looking for.

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**Jareth strode up and down in his study, his clerk nervously scribbling down all the orders he received from the new Goblin King. **

_**Jareth looked pale and drawn, but his eyes were angry and watchful. He picked up some papers from his desk and slammed them down in front of the terrified little goblin. "I want all those changes made to the records from my… from my predecessor's reign."**_

_**A loud squeak at the goblin nodded his shaggy head and ran for the door, knowing the order was to be carried out instantly. **_

_**Jareth continued to pace, running a hand through his hair in some nameless frustration, stopping by his desk to look through some of the letters and flinging them over his shoulder. **_

_**A knock at the door and he called for the person to enter. **_

_**Gringol was carrying the sheaf of papers the clerk had been given, not looking particularly happy about something. "Sire, I believe you gave your clerk certain orders regarding any known copies of the records of your consort's reign."**_

_**Jareth turned cold, dangerous eyes on him, a slow smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Let us be truthful, Gringol. That bastard was my father, not my consort. I disown him as a consort and I want that stricken from the records as is perfectly within my power."**_

"_**You cannot change history on a whim," Gringol snapped back, "What is done is done. And even should the records be changed, people will remember! I understand your shame and I share it, but this…"**_

"_**Share it? Really. None of you even comprehend it. None! I want those words removed from every set of records in the Kingdom. And now that you remind me, I want a law- a law that will forbid anyone to mention my previous binding or my consort ever again."**_

"_**Jareth…"**_

_**A crystal was blazing on white fingertips in less than a second. "I am your King," Jareth bit out, "Address me as such with the respect I deserve. The Gods know I earned it!"**_

---------------------------------------------

Toby stared down at the books by his side. So it was true- Jareth had married his father. But why? What could possibly have made any father want to marry his only child? Archer had described Jareth's father as being a good king and a good goblin. Jareth held a wistful respect for him too.

He sneezed and sighed, setting the books aside. There were four hundred years' worth of memories and he was so depressed. All he wanted to do was curl into a ball and moan, covering his ears and eyes against the world, wishing it would quietly go away so that he never had to live in it ever again. With all this pain inside him, he didn't think he could bear another pinprick. Even a paper cut would set him off into screaming hysteria. Or that was what he felt.

And then he discovered the paintings. Not the paintings that were hanging on the wall or the paintings that been begun but never quite finished. Nor yet those that were deemed terrible- and quite rightly in some cases- and had been left in lingering frustration in corners, turned to the wall so no one needed to look at them. No, these paintings were carefully preserved and lay in the most comfortable part of the room, the part where Toby had found Jareth the last time.

He recognized a few of the people and a couple of the places. An old, rather dilapidated painting was of a tall white tower on a hill with a large locked door and small windows in the upper levels. A face looked out, though whose it was he couldn't be sure. Letters printed neatly in the bottom right hand said it was by someone else and was of the Ivory Tower.

And one was of Archer. A vicious rip in the canvas tore across the spaniel-brown eyes, but Toby could hold the rip closed and see just how carefully the painting had been done. Each stroke seemed almost like a caress. The waves of depression were taking on an added note- terror. It felt like a cobra was coiled in his gut, its long tongue flicking in and out as the tension mounted, waiting for the right time to strike and bite. Slow poison moved in his veins and he could taste the thickness.

It wasn't him, then; it was Jareth. This was what he felt. Maybe how he had felt for years before this day? At one time Toby might have sat down and cried for not being there. But right then… right then he wanted to go downstairs and break his husband's neck for not speaking sooner. How dared Jareth had simply presumed he wouldn't understand! He'd been raped too, for God's sake! He knew a little about the shame and fear of being used. And he'd understand how Jareth felt because he was a father and he knew what he'd do to anyone who wanted to harm his children. How dared the Goblin King have done this!

The linen-wrapped silver panel of Jareth's father went smashing against the other wall, landing on the wooden floor with a dented clatter.

The portrait of Archer might have gone too, but Toby didn't dare touch the picture more than he needed. His own wounds weren't completely healed. He didn't want Jareth's memories to bring more pain. Even for his bond mate he couldn't stand that. So he took deep breaths and tried to think rationally. He pinched the bridge of his nose and wished his headache away. That depression was getting to him.

He pushed forward, looking through the more personal collection of paintings. There was a small one, very stilted and very crudely drawn, of a woman with long, unevenly lengthened hair down her back- the same dark hair with ice-blue streaks- just like Archer. Her face was badly asymmetrical, but the scrawl at the bottom was an adult hand. Toby knew who it was without looking for the memory. Jareth had gotten most of his features and his pride from her. And there was no mistaking those slender white hands. Surprisingly enough, there were even paintings of Lord Pelinlas and Lord Zaraith in there.

Toby touched Zaraith's portrait and let the memories sweep him away.

------------------------------------------------

"**Welcome to the Goblin City, my Lord."**

_**Jareth couldn't possibly have been very old. Quite likely he was only Aidan's age. The lines of his face were still soft and the clean flow of his body was too feminine for the hardness of the adult male he was now. Dressed in red and black, he looked like a vision at the huge gates of the city, surrounded with disciplined guards with polished armour. **_

_**Zaraith smiled and bowed, Varlan and Hergoh at either side. All three had just alighted from the sky and two more guards transformed behind them, dressed in silver as the guards always were. **_

"_**If you will follow me, my Lord," Jareth invited, waving a hand to the Castle, "We have awaited your arrival for many days now. My father looks forward to putting aside the differences of the past and starting anew."**_

"_**Admirable," Varlan remarked rather scathingly. **_

_**The young prince looked startled at the acid comment and then flushed slightly, turning away with an angry look that in turn startled the draconite because it was so very level and contemplative. Jareth was obviously making some kind of peace within himself to deal with his anger in a more resourceful manner. Varlan soon found out how- he was treated ever after as a lesser member of a visiting royal's retinue. And from the smug look of innocence on Jareth's face at each occasion, the insult was intentional. **_

_**But the evening meals were more than a source of amusement for Jareth. They also provided times when the Lord of the Draconites watched him with a look of curiosity on his face. Not that careful watching was needed; Jareth was fairly obvious as far as this particular matter went. And not long into the night the Lord himself confronted him on a midnight journey through the Castle. **_

"_**My Lord!" Clearly Jareth was surprised. "Is something amiss? Do you want for something?"**_

"_**You forget that the night is when draconites are most comfortable," Zaraith said lightly, "I was only enjoying the absence of light. For a creature that does not see, the light can be intrusive."**_

_**Jareth's ears pricked up. "But all creatures in the Underground see."**_

"_**Ah, but draconites see only in a manner of sorts." It was almost too easy to fall into step with the young boy, walking casually with him on his way to wherever. "We see bare images and vague shapes; no colours and perceptions disturb our vision. We see movement and auras. Yours, my child, is silver flecked with cream… your father's aura, in fact."**_

_**It was quite the wrong thing to say, for Jareth shut down instantly, his eyes shuttering and his face acquiring a wary look of suspicion. "I hope you will enjoy the splendours of the Castle," he murmured formally, "Excuse me. There is an order I must give to the servants."**_

_**He made to move and was interrupted. "With your clothing loosened and your skin bathed and scented? A man meets his lover like that. No child bathes for the servants."**_

_**Spinning round on his heel so fast that the serene purplish-black sky outside was a blur before the red of fury. "Do not dare to say another word." Hissing like a snake about to attack. "Leave this part of the Castle. You are not welcome here."**_

"_**I only make an observation, child. The guilt is revealed in your answer. What type is this marriage?"**_

"_**One you will not understand."**_

"_**Try me."**_

"_**It is not your concern."**_

"_**You tell me that you are in love with your own father?" Silence and a stony face were the only answer. But the stormy eyes said enough. Too young to have control over every feature. "Heavens, my Prince, you cannot be serious! The goblin is your father!"**_

"_**You do not understand," Jareth pointed out quietly, "Speak of it to no one, I beg of you. The- the rumours will kill him. Please. He wants the secrecy."**_

"_**And you would shout it from the rooftops?"**_

"_**I see no reason to lie."**_

_**Curious green eyes roving over his upturned face, saddened and still withdrawn. "You will when you are older."**_

**A peculiar reaction- laughter. Loud laughter than rang through the stone corridors. "When I am older? I assure you I am no child now. Not since I was thirteen, my Lord. I can bring more pleasure with my hands alone than most women twice my age. I am old enough now that I will not age again until my death. Keep your advice, my Lord; there is no need of it here."**

"_**You do not know…"**_

"_**I know enough. If you will excuse me, my lover waits for me." Jareth had never had the intention of lying to keep his relations a secret. He rejoiced in it. **_

"_**Take another lover, child. This is unhealthy."**_

_**Knowing blue eyes peeping over a slender shoulder. "It is a display of love," Jareth pointed out, "Like all good sons, I love my father. I give him what he needs."**_

-------------------------------------------

The memory was so grotesque that Toby almost threw himself backwards to let go of the painting fast enough. He wasn't sure he even wanted to touch Pelinlas' portrait. He could only imagine what Jareth had gone to him about. But he took a deep breath and reached out a hand.

--------------------------------------------

"_**What is it, pen-neth? Why is a young boy crying on my doorstep?"**_

_**Jareth was even younger, looking like a small, drowned cat as he crouched pitiably at the foot of a large tree. He had meant to climb it, but he was too tired from running blindly through the Labyrinth, too heartsick to even make the attempt. Besides, it was raining and the wood was now slippery. **_

_**The Elf Lord held out a hand and pulled Jareth to his feet. He never asked anything more until the thirteen-year-old was done crying. He only offered the silent comfort of a hand on his shoulder and a warm embrace when it was needed. **_

"_**Life can be hard," was all he said, "Tell me your name."  
**_

_**A slight hesitation and then Jareth told him. Pelinlas was shocked at exactly who it was, and offered the prince the hospitality of his home. His little daughter was asleep, he said, and quite capable of staying that way as they talked. Jareth managed the climb with efficient ease and was soon warming himself in a blanket, pouring out his tale of woe. **_

_**He missed his mother, was confused over his father, didn't want his fae cousin to go back to his home and to make matters worse, a friend had called him 'jra-gurgh' but he really wasn't- he swore that- and people hated him for something he had had no say in. Why did everyone hate him if the formal binding wasn't his fault?**_

-----------------------------------------------------

Toby didn't even wait for Pelinlas to speak before snatching his hand away. He didn't want to know. It was painful enough! He could still picture the uneasy look on his husband's face when Aidan's thirteenth birthday had loomed on the horizon. The rejection had started from then, according to Arradine, and Toby had felt the restrictions more when Jareth suddenly began to demand that he tell him every time he left the Castle.

"Idiot," he chastised himself, brushing the small specks of dust from his hands and making for the door. "I was an idiot! And you!" Screamed it to no one because Jareth couldn't hear him any way. "You think this is so easy? You think you were the only one who feared that your children would experience the torment that you did? Well, look at this, you bastard- look!"

And Toby gathered that last rape into his mind and forced it through the tenuous cracks in the barriers between their minds. He knew the pain of having his mind forced at least would jolt through Jareth, no matter how unconscious he was.

-----------------------------------------------------

"_**Hold still, dear heart, and the pain might not be so bad."**_

_**Soft cooing voice and Toby froze, still half-asleep. He stared up at the ceiling in shock, not daring to try to get up because it couldn't be. It simply wasn't possible. **_

"_**Not possible, is it? Did you think I wouldn't return? My, my, but what a bad pet you have been!" The words were almost teasing, but they meant nothing at all when a hand smashed across his face. "Up! Up and greet me as you should, worthless brat! Whore! Look at you, swollen with child- a rather repulsive state of affairs, don't you think?"**_

_**The tremors wouldn't stop. Toby desperately called to Jareth, but the link had been shut down. He remembered why. Jareth was discussing some 'boring old political matters' and didn't want to disturb his sleep. **_

"_**I will come to you in the dreams, my elf," he had said, "Sleep now. I will meet you there later."**_

_**But that rich, dark chuckle had woken him up and for a moment he'd been disoriented, wondering where the covers had gone and why the room was so cold. And then that voice. He had squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it was only a vision and he would never have to watch this. If He just went away then Toby could pretend to himself that nothing had happened. **_

_**But he didn't go away. He sat down beside him and by the time Toby stopped drowning in his own fear, gloved hands had snapped the chain around his neck and he was trapped, the hands moving down to cup his very pregnant midsection. The knife appeared from nowhere to rest against the curve of his abdomen. **_

_**He began to hyperventilate, gasping in shock and terror at the sight of that sharp instrument where it could do the most damage. But now it wasn't just for himself but for the child inside him. If that blade went in it would kill them both and Toby couldn't bear the thought. **_

"_**Please," he didn't know why he bothered to beg, "Please! I- I can't! It will hurt my baby. Please, don't hurt it. I'll do anything."**_

"_**Hands and knees, dear heart. I heard an interesting thing the other day… bitch. Wasn't that what you wanted? I am sure the Goblin King had no real idea of what you meant, but I do. You like this."**_

"_**No…"**_

"_**I gave an order." **_

_**The knife pressed in deeper and Toby almost fainted with fear. Turning with difficulty and no help, getting into the required position and feeling his spine scream with the effort. **_

_**His tormentor didn't care. The blade remained pressed right against his belly, ready to slide through his flesh in a moment's notice. The quick fumble at his waist and then his pants were ripped off him. **_

_**Toby shut his eyes in shame and bit at his lip, pushing aside the panic until after it was all over. **_

_**But it never ended! **_

"_**What child will it be, dear heart?" Thrusting so hard that he was almost thrown forward, already off balance and now even more so. "A boy or girl? I can just imagine how sweet your daughter would look, with long blond hair and big blue eyes, just waiting to be taught like you were taught. I will have that pleasure, my dear, I do assure you of that."**_

_**Crying and helpless to do anything. The pain was not as intense as it might have been because of his healthy relationship with his husband and his tormentor commented on it, complained at the lack of blood and said he was a common whore who could obviously never get enough. **_

_**And shockingly enough Toby thought of Jareth and prayed that a miracle would happen and Jareth would feel his need. Something… anything! He was so scared and he needed him. He was so sorry. This was all his fault and now Jareth's baby was in danger. He was so ashamed. **_

_**A sharp crack of a blow across his rump caused him to cry out and almost fall. He twisted and landed painfully, his back protesting. There were scratches on his back from the rough coupling, he could feel a few of them bleed. But the worst hadn't come yet, had it?**_

"_**Still thinking of your saviour? Your beloved husband." Warm, sensuous mouth near his ear and he shuddered as he felt the knife tap idly at his skin. "He will be far too busy with his Fairy Queen, dear heart." Dark eyes backing away and glittering down at him in amusement. "Did you think he would like someone like you? You are a brood mare. Nothing more."**_

"_**He married." He didn't know where he got the strength. "He loves me."**_

"_**He loves what you can give him. He has rather a taste for the young and innocent."**_

_**His head hurt. He felt sick and nauseous and the child inside him suddenly kicked out and hurt him. His back burned and ached. The world swam in little circles and everything went slower, as if seconds lasted as long as minutes and minutes had become hours. Time crawled and everything happened in slow motion. **_

_**The face had changed. The shimmer of glamour magic and it had been Jareth bending over him. Toby had believed for a minute, had let out a glad cry and thrown his arms around the slender white neck. But it hadn't been Jareth. Because he saw the eyes and the sick little smile told him everything else. The second time was worse- Jareth's face above his, Jareth's child kicking inside him and that horribly soft voice whispering all those horrible things to him. And his tormentor had promised his child would grow to love the pain.**_

--------------------------------------------------

Ereditha almost fell out of her chair as the Goblin King suddenly let out a soft cry and began to twist weakly on the bed. For one of those rare occasions, Lorelei was in the room with Hoggle and Fiorle. But the three were at the other end of the room and Ereditha was the closest.

They turned just in time to see the Goblin King sit up and Ereditha launch herself at him with a glad cry. There was an audible thump and Jareth grimaced in pain, but he wouldn't let go of his little daughter, even when they reached his side and tried to get her gently off him.

Ereditha was laughing and babbling non-stop and Jareth didn't care. He didn't listen to a word, only to hear her voice and know she was safe. He had been so close to that final nothingness. He had felt it move towards him and he'd felt so safe. It was such a relief to attain this final an end. But then that shattering pain somewhere behind him and the seeping of the images, dragging him back out of worry and concern only to find that ghastly memory in his mind.

"Get Arradine," he ordered hoarsely, "Toby. Aidan… now."

Hoggle ran off to get the three but Toby was already on his way in, looking pale and a little shaken.

The mortal stopped when he saw what awaited him in the room and knew from the painful, hopeless look in his former lover's eyes that he wouldn't be forgiven for forcing Jareth to choose life. Not yet. But even if it hurt them both unbearably he would not let Jareth die.


	17. Lost

Author's Note: This is soppily romantic, I'm afraid. But then these two are fairly romantic people.

-----------------------------------------------

Unfortunately things didn't change for the better. This was no miraculous cure; it was merely a stay of execution as far as Jareth was concerned. He was obviously still in a lot of pain and he could barely stand to look at his children after that first awakening. Toby found the nightmares had returned and once more he didn't attempt to break them or fight them, just lay still and endured them until they brought.

His power was almost non-existent and Toby could feel the brokenness, the anguish over the little things. The once-proud Goblin King had no pride left. He was too tired, too depressed, too lost in his misery to even care any more.

Fiorle had no answers for him and none of Lorelei's potions did any good. All that had happened, in essence, was that Jareth had woken up. He might live, but only until such time as the active fear began to reassert itself past the numbed agony of the moment.

Therefore Jareth's fears needed to be laid to rest.

Which was confusing, because as far as Toby could see, there was really nothing much to be afraid of. Yes, his husband had been married before, and to his father, but his father was dead. Archer had exacerbated the situation, sure, but where did the fear of his father enter the picture? No matter how much Toby would like to take the unpleasantness away, Jareth still needed to answer a few questions.

Toby knocked at the door and waited for permission to enter. Once in, he watched the Goblin King try to seem in control. He sat down beside him and stopped that pretence- "Why did he take you?"

Jareth took a long time to even manage to meet his gaze. But it wasn't through a refusal to speak, but more of a need to collect himself enough to join the conversation. "He said he did it to preserve my inheritance."

"Your inheritance?"

"The Kingship. You've heard me called Jra-Gurgh? It means 'The Unborn'. I was unborn."

"Unborn?" Toby was beginning to think he could play the understudy for a mountain echo. But he was really not getting the connection. "What's an unborn?"

Jareth sighed and lay back in his bed. "My mother left when I was thirteen. There were consequences. Goblin Law does not account for divorce, but it does allow dissolution of a marriage, which happens when one partner leaves, leaving both with as much and no more than they started with. What my mother did not know, was that the law then states that any children born in a dissolved marriage are rendered 'unborn'. They are non-entities, cut off without any legal connection to their families whatsoever."

"Geez," Toby breathed, "So the Kingdom was left without an heir, huh?"

Jareth nodded tiredly. "Even as an adopted child I had no claim to the throne. My father could have married again, but he didn't want another woman in his life. He had married so late, you see, and to start another family then… he lived for his kingdom. Besides, he- he did love me. He wanted me to have what was only my right."

"Couldn't your mother have come back or something?"

"He asked," Jareth growled, "He sent emissaries telling them of the situation and she refused. She said she could not live in the Castle for another day. The emissaries returned with nothing."

"So your father married you?" Toby was still having a little trouble believing this, but at least there was a tangible sense of sanity somewhere in the words. "Oh, I see. Because if there are no children, the spouse inherits the Kingdom- I remember that from when we married. He married you so you could inherit!"

"Yes."

Jareth shut his eyes and pretended to go to sleep for a moment. But he could feel the blue gaze still burning into him. He didn't want to be pitied. It was not in his nature to accept pity as anything but weak. And Toby couldn't possibly know that the unhappiness was- oddly enough- rooted in the fact that if it hadn't been for the blasted Kingdom, his father would never have bothered with him at all.

He was not prepared to have a warm pair of lips lightly caress his own.

"You are worth more than some Kingdom," Toby whispered soothingly, "Your father never knew the treasure he had."

Jareth's eyes blinked open, heavy-lidded and somewhat dazed. "You still do not understand, do you? A marriage is only consummated if the couple have sex. The whole ceremony before that does not work until the binding is physically sealed. I never told you because I didn't want to force you. I know how…" he stopped and shrugged, knowing Toby could complete that sentence for himself.

Toby dropped his head to Jareth's shoulder. "I know. I read your memories. It must have been terrifying."

"Not too much. I wasn't told anything. I woke up one morning as I always did but then I was taken into a room with my father and his father's supporters. I had no notion about any of it until the ceremony was underway. It was private and quick, rushed as far as royal bindings go. And then I was sent out of the room so they could talk."

"Did he come to you that night?"

"He had his guards bring me from my bed to his. I struggled when I found out. They had to chain me down."

"Jareth, you once told me that your first time…" Toby had no delicate way of saying this, "That your first partner tore you. Was that also your father?"

"Yes. But he didn't mean to. It was an accident." The low monotone sounded as if Jareth was persuading himself more than anyone else.

Had the fae realized, Toby wondered, that he had made excuses for his father's vices? Or had he been such an innocent as to be blind to what had actually happened to him? True, the child might not have been hurt intentionally, but it was rape none the less. And to a thirteen year old!

Jareth seemed to agree: "He was wrong. No matter the reasons, he should never have done that. I've always known it. I could not have the same thing happen to Aidan. I knew even then that it was wrong for my father- my father of all people- to bed me. But I pretended not to notice. What difference did it make? It was legal. He was happy. I was happy enough. What difference did it make?" The monotone was beginning to fluctuate with barely repressed anger.

Toby didn't say a word. He didn't try to touch Jareth or offer comfort. At this time, he knew that it would be the most hateful of gestures. He could only try to understand- "But the love became twisted, didn't it? For both of you?"

Sudden movement as the Goblin King dropped his head into his hands and shuddered. "There was nothing wrong," he whispered, "I told myself that we did nothing wrong. It was love."

"You were his son."

"I was unborn! It was legal."

"But not moral."

The silence stretched on for an eternity and Toby almost expected Jareth to be crying by the way he shuddered. But when the silver-white face lifted, it was dry.

"This was the reason that I refused to let you return to the Aboveground. The children would have been disinherited and there would have been nothing I could do. Adopted children will always face contest from some other distant heir. I feared that I would have to end by binding with one of them, and Aidan was the safest bet. He would never have refused. And he couldn't bear children likeArradine or Ereditha. Could you imagine children from such a union? No, it would have been Aidan and I couldn't bear to see him go through what I did. I don't hate my life, Toby; I hate that what I am is dangerous to those I love."

Toby touched his shoulder, then, only to get those mismatched eyes to look at him. "You are not dangerous," he swore, "You aren't even attracted to Aidan. If you had told me, I would have stayed. I would have understood."

The half-goblin looked amused. He rotated his sprained wrist a little as he shook his head. "But then I would have ruined your life. And that scares me too. I did ruin your life already. If not for me, you would have lived in safety Aboveground. What would you have done, if I hadn't taken you away?"

"Gone mad," Toby said promptly, "The dreams were getting more intense, Jareth, you know that. And I had no direction for my life when you came to me. I wasn't lost, but I had no ambitions as such. My friends wanted to be doctors and singers and computer engineers. I wanted to draw and think. Nothing else. But I'm not good enough to be a professional artist, so I think we both know it would never have worked. You gave me a way to live."

The Goblin King actually smirked. It was a weak smirk, but a smirk all the same. "Actually I didn't," he sighed, "I planned to keep you for my amusement and comfort and you ended up being something that I needed very badly. You made your own way into my life. I couldn't have fought you if I tried. And I did try."

"I know."

Jareth groaned and buried his head in his hands again. "I never wanted him to feel this," he pleaded harshly, "I never wanted him to feel the shame. I wouldn't have touched him."

"I know," Toby soothed, sitting closer and stroking his thigh.

They stayed like that for a long time, staring at nothing and engrossed in their own personal reflections. Jareth was still shamed and angered by what had happened to him, unable to look back and even comprehend how he had allowed himself to be so deluded. But the fact remained that for two hundred years he had been his father's lover. It had been a sudden illumination to see the dead body lowered into an open grave in the forests nearby, to know with a sick certainty that he was ascending to the throne as a soiled individual.

"It lasted so long," he mumbled, "He only meant to do his duty for one night, but it corrupted him. Soon I was sleeping in his bed every night."

"When did Archer find out?"

For once Jareth didn't react to that particular name. "My mother found out and sent him to try to make another arrangement. He came too late. Found me in a tree the next morning, hurt and terrified. He helped me."

And made up his mind to use the abuse to his own advantage, Toby thought silently. He wouldn't say it out loud. The Goblin King was living through enough pain for the time being. He finally held out his arms, offering to chase the darkness away by his sheer presence. It was a relief to him when Jareth burrowed into his neck, gasping lightly.

"Toby."

"Hmmm?"

"I think I want to sleep."

"Lie down, then. I'll stay until you fall asleep."

Mismatched eyes seemed almost pathetically grateful even when Jareth said nothing in reply. The Goblin King allowed himself to be fussed over, luxuriating in a sensation he hadn't felt for so long.

"Could you…?"

He didn't need to ask, Toby lamented. Without a word, the mortal climbed into bed with him. Jareth moved closer with a self-conscious cough and then nestled closer still. Toby tightened his arms very carefully.

"Always," the fire-blond whispered, "You never need to ask. Just take. Okay?"

Jareth's nod was barely perceptible.


	18. Visitation

Author's Note: Do you know how times are never good, and even breath-throughs don't mean change overnight? Too many fan fiction writers have this sudden revelation and think that everything gets better instantly. So Jareth's told Toby; so what? Well, we shall see. Things might not work yet. It's all up to the patient, really, isn't it?

----------------------------------------------------

Morning; sunshine- a lot of reasons to get out of bed on a cold winter's day- but there really weren't that many as far as Jareth could see. He didn't know why he persisted in this farce; it was over. Toby knew. What difference did it make now?

He lay back against the satin pillows and winced as his mending bones healed. His right hand was almost knitted back to normal. The fingers were setting a little crooked, however, and he supposed that was because he was too weak for the fae side of him to bother overmuch with perfect physical appearances. The Gods knew he didn't care about anything any more. Except… well, it really was quite pleasant outside.

"_I don't hate my life, Toby; I hate that what I am is dangerous to those I love." _

No. He really didn't hate his life. Most of his life had had no real bearing on what he had become, anyway. Sure, his father had introduced him to the ecstasy of same sex couplings, but that didn't mean he enjoyed males any more or less. At ten, he'd had rather a large sneaking interest in his mother's clothes. Silk felt so inordinately good against his skin. And he'd adopted his own fluttery, feathery style without any help from anyone else, thank you very much.

Almost absently the Goblin King conjured up a crystal for the first time since his awakening and began to play with it, tossing it up and catching it again like a little boy with a ball.

He'd read a lot, he supposed, because he was lonely. But that meant nothing- he hadn't enjoyed playing with goblin children. Most goblins were too simple. And they had matured much slower than he had, so taunts and childish fun were very regular occurrences at his expense. He hadn't actually bothered. The more they teased, the more vigorously he indulged in what they teased him about. A self-destructive trait, his father had sternly told him.

The whispered remark of an old friend as they passed on the street; the sound of someone spitting at him when his back was turned; spinning on his heel and grabbing the male goblin by the neck and throwing him into the dirt. Even as a small-boned thirteen year old Jareth had been taller than most of them. A crystal in his hand- "You were saying, Brennan?"

"N-nothing, Jareth." The poor thing stuttering and stammering.

Raising a cool eyebrow. "Jareth? I was certain I was the King's consort, not a common peasant."

"Y- yes, Your Highness."

"Good."

Just for the sake of it- because he could- he'd called up the guards and had poor Brennan escorted to an oubliette for the rest of the day, making sure to release him by nightfall so no one could accuse him of cruelty- unfairness, yes, but not cruelty. No one had ever said a word to him about being 'ana guragh' (not born) or 'mennoque' (person involved in incest) ever again. It was just something that added to his legend.

He supposed it was quite flattering, really, that he was considered a living legend in most circles in the Underground. Not since his ancestor, Aidan, had there been a Goblin King held in such awe and respect. But he was tired of all of it. It was a cold place when he couldn't simply indulge his less fantastical whims and release a few pent-up emotions.

He was proud and arrogant and self-absorbed. He could do nothing about that, and wasn't looking to change. After all, he was proud of his station in life and his looks and his legend and mystery. He was proud that his consort was so controversial and yet such a prize. He was proud of his three proud and arrogantly beautiful children. He was proud of his connection with a power as ancient and vast as the Labyrinth. And yes, he believed his mind and his station set him apart from almost everyone else in his Kingdom and put him on a golden pedestal. But occasionally- just occasionally- he wanted to get down and stretch his legs with a little walk through the slums of the peasantry. Was that too much to ask?

So just why was he hiding in bed in his room, watching the sun rise and trying to rouse even the smallest spark of interest in something vaguely interesting? Of course, his mind put forth snidely, he could think of his son.

As usual, he almost shrank away from that thought. He didn't want to think about Aidan, was terrified that somehow that perfectly excusable pride in the boy's loveliness would translate into some kind of curiosity into just how pretty he was. And Aidan clearly adored him; he hung on his every word and did everything possible to spend time with him. It was a flattering situation and unfortunately Jareth's ability to express love and approval was rather sensual. He needed physical contact like a fish needed gills. All his life, he was used to hugging or touching or kissing those he loved- his mother, his father, Archer, Toby, his lovers… even Lord Pelinlas had been the subject of a few brief and furtive wonderings. He was a sensualist who had only ever learnt to relate through sex. How exactly was he supposed to respond to his son? And he refused to see Aidan get hurt.

No, death had been preferable to that. Toby would not leave now, however, so there was no need to fear that, was there? Well, there might have been, if it had been anyone aside from his elf. Toby was far too nice to do something like that for revenge.

The sun rose higher, beginning to pool on the carpeted floor and shine on the wood of the furnishing. The silver handles of the cupboards glinted in the strong light and he just knew that if he looked out of the window, he would see the Labyrinth and the Goblin City wreathed in white snow and yellow sunlight. A beautiful sight for a beautiful day.

And Toby hadn't entered his chamber yet. Nor had Lorelei or Fiorle.

The Goblin King gently flexed his bandaged shoulder and winced a little. Sitting in bed was not an appealing notion. Neither was living his life under this cloud. He could almost hate his bond mate for dragging him back to that when he'd almost managed to escape it, but he figured that it put them at evens- he had pulled Toby back from death by suicide; Toby had pulled him back from death by illness.

Getting out of bed was harder than he had thought, and a gruesome sight if he cared to look. His muscle had wasted with the long illness, leaving a skeletal look to his frame and his bones pushed against his skin in sharp relief. The bruises had mostly faded and his neck was as good as new. But he was careful on his trip to the bathroom.

But he did have to lean his forehead against the wall as he stood. For some reason standing made him nauseous. But once Jareth had finished and gotten into the bath, his head stopped spinning enough for him to relax. The water was no longer so hot and he was quite pleased to wonder whether his temperature had risen to a more acceptable level.

A good fifteen minute soak and a quick duck below the surface as he washed his hair and then he was out, yanking the towels from their racks to dry himself. The air was beginning to register as something that was cold. Clothes seemed the next viable option.

"Something simple," he muttered, strolling slowly into his closet and looking around with a frown. An old cream shirt caught his eye and he took the trouble to pull it on one-handed, doing up half the buttons and leaving the rest. He managed to get on a pair of blue trousers with a slight flare, laughing humorously to remember his days Aboveground. Unfortunately the buttons escaped his one-handed attempts to do them up.

Luckily the shadow across the floor told him someone had been standing there watching him for quite a while now and he turned his head to imperiously beckon them to him.

Toby obliged and seemed to have no complaints with the small task set to him. Though he would rather be pulling them down again; watching his husband dress had been a disturbingly erotic sight. And since Jareth wasn't pushing him away or exuding that coldness that usually meant he wished his bond mate in Jericho, Toby found himself actually running his hands over the bony hips in a loving caress.

"Glad you like them," Jareth commented ironically.

Toby looked up quickly, suspicious about the levels of mockery in the rough voice. But the mismatched eyes were only amused. Darker brown eyelashes were still wet and spiked, giving him a mascaraed look, with the bluish tint of his eyelids looking like someone had taken a make-up brush to him. And suddenly Toby wanted to see Jareth in make-up. He'd only seen that in his memories and…

"Want to play dress up?" he asked breathlessly.

Jareth raised a dark brow and took his turn to look suspicious. "What are you trying to do?" he sighed, "Is this an attempt to cheer me?"

Blond hair swung in the shadows as Toby shook his head. "Not an attempt to cheer you," he confessed, "Actually, just to let me indulge a whim."

"You're planning to use me for some project of yours?" Jareth asked dubiously.

The mortal blushed and looked through the selected finery until he came upon a long tunic that would reach mid-thigh. "Yes." Sifting through the collection of chiffon and silk scarves and finding nothing he quite liked. "Will- will you do it?"

Jareth leaned his good shoulder against the doorframe, his mind sharpening at this unexpected surprise. It wasn't every day that Toby rushed into something. "I am not sure. What will it entail?"

"You dressing as I want to see you. You don't have to parade or anything; just wear what I give you. It will probably look ridiculous, but I swear I won't laugh."

White fingers tapped against a thin, pursed mouth as the Goblin King pondered that. Did he really care even if Toby did laugh? Not really. And it would be something to do unless he wanted to stay in bed for the rest of the day. Lorelei had been pouring drugs and sleeping potions down his throat for so long now that it was a relief to be on his feet and operating under his own sluggish steam. "What the hell! What do you plan to do to me?"

"Well, first I want to undress you."

"Is this heading where I think it is? Because I really am not up to that… quite literally." Jareth looked pointedly down to the front of his breeches, smirking slightly when Toby rolled his eyes. Gods, it felt good to make snappish remarks!

"Outside," Toby pleaded, "This stuffy closet is not big enough for the both of us. Now come here and let me get that shirt off. No, put your hand down; it's not healed yet and your bones are still delicate. By the way, have you eaten today?"

His husband shook his head disinterestedly.

Toby smirked and stepped back. "Here," he said, handing over a crystal which turned into a peach into Jareth's hand, "Eat that."

Jareth looked from the peach to the smirking mortal and for one wild moment considered laughing. He smiled instead and bit into it, closing his eyes as the juice spurted over his tongue, tasting surprisingly less like cottonwool than he had expected. It was probably because of the prospect of something to do. So, feeling a little like his old self, he ate the peach and watched while he was gently disrobed.

And Toby was being very gentle. The skeletal look was astonishingly not a bad one for Jareth, though he could have wished his bones were less prominent. But seeing as how slender and delicate those bones were the painter in him was quite content. So he took the clothes off, pretended not to ogle and put them all away neatly.

"Cold?" he asked.

Jareth shook his head, too busy chewing to bother. What the Goblin King was, however, feeling, was actual interest. Not just in this mystery game of dress-up, but in the hungry look in Toby's eyes. He'd convinced himself that the little fire-blond would want nothing to do with him once he knew, but there was Toby- devouring his face with those blue eyes of his. A small debate was waging inside the half-goblin's head and the louder side won.

"Want a bite?" he asked casually, licking a dribble of juice off his arm.

Toby said nothing, but leaned forward and opened his mouth. Jareth put the peach to the wide mouth and held it while white teeth took a small nibble of the soft flesh. His interest gradually growing, Jareth leaned forward and flicked a small drop of moisture off the corner of the soft lips and held his finger out to licked clean. That done, he watched, fascinated, for the effect. Yes, Toby was definitely aroused.

And obviously trying very hard not to show it. "Are you done yet?"

"It's a big peach," Jareth remarked, sucking the last remains of the juice and fruit off the seed.

Toby's eyes went wide and then he turned, hurriedly picking up the tunic and smoothing it beneath his fingers as if it were an all important job. He refused to think that he wished that mouth was wrapped around any number of his body parts, but he still did have to plan that outfit. Maybe if the tunic was longer? He concentrated and used magic to adjust the length.

"I'm done," came softly from behind him and he turned in time to see a very naked Jareth sit down on the bed with a tired sigh and glance at him enquiringly. "Well? Am I to wear that?"

"Yup."

"You know my shoulder is broken, don't you."

"Oh. Here. I'll magic it on." Toby was actually surprised by just how good it looked. It was a deep almost royal blue with a low, wide v-neck that clearly showed off the half-goblin's shoulders. It clung, but not too tightly, leaving enough of a suggestion of subtler curves and lines to be discovered beneath. "Looks good," he commended.

"I know," Jareth answered, "I designed it. Now what?"

"What make-up did you usually wear?"

"Make-up?!" Clearly the Goblin King was shocked. "You're making me up? Why?"

Toby spread his hands. "I just want to. You're pretty."

"So I have been told. But no one usually colours my face because of that. Why make-up? I thought you liked your men… manly?"

A snort was his only answer. "My men? Man, darling, and so I warn you. Suck it up, glam boy; you turned me gay, anyway."

Jareth sighed and resigned himself to the inevitable. So it was one of Those Games again, like with the cuffs or the orders not to make a sound- all just a way of dominating someone else. It was an establishment of power, at least, by pushing him down into the trappings of a role that was not conventionally considered to be dominating. Ah well, he had had nothing better to do and had lousy taste in men as it was. Perhaps he should have gotten a queen. Which was ironic, since he was being transformed into a queen that very moment.

"What are you angry about now?" Toby questioned, sensing the discomfort and drop in energy. That, and Jareth had slumped somewhat. "I'm sorry for snapping, love, but it is sort of true."

"Yes, yes, I know- you don't like men," Jareth growled impatiently, waving a hand to stop the words, "So you tell me- does that make me a woman?"

Toby stopped himself from simply answering back in the same tone. It wouldn't do, he suspected. "Well, it makes you something beyond man or woman," he offered, "You're not female, but I don't just like you because you're male. You're just… well, you, I guess."

"Thank you. I suppose it would be enough."

"You don't have to be sarcastic; I'm trying to explain."

"Miserably as it turned out," Jareth finished. His chest hurt. And when he looked up, his bond mate had cocked his head like a little sparrow and was gazing at him with that maddeningly sympathetic expression. "Don't you dare pity me," he warned quietly.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Toby agreed, "Will you stand up for a moment? I want to put something on you."

"Handcuffs?" Jareth guessed angrily, standing up anyway with his arms out by his side in offering, "Collar? Chain? Shackle my ankles while you're at it."

"Stop being melodramatic! I just want to put a belt around your waist. If you don't like it, I'll take it off. Okay?"

Jareth huffed and turned away, striding away to the window and glaring moodily out at the snow. Yes, the Labyrinth and the Goblin City was covered in a thick layer of white snow and yellow sunshine, and yes, it looked beautiful. Hoggle was tramping through the snow in the garden, heading away from the Castle. Possibly to go home to his overworked wife and his mindless son, Jareth though spitefully, almost envying the simplicity of such a life. The touch of someone's hands on his waist nearly sent him tumbling out the window in shock.

Toby drew him away from the window and pushed him gently in front of the mirror. "What do you think? Too bright?"

Jareth just stared at the jewelled silver belt with hooded eyes. No, it wasn't too bright. No, it wasn't too big. Yes, it was just perfect. He hated it. And said so.

Toby only nodded and took it off, dropping it negligently on the floor and trying to think of something else. Hands on his hips, he bit his lip trying to concentrate on Jareth's waist and on nothing below that line. If he hadn't known better, he'd say that his bond mate was actually showing signs of experiencing anger. Which was impossible because he'd been so numbed for so long now. But there was that spark in his eyes that was oh-so familiar…

"For the love of all that is pure, stop! I don't want this!" Jareth barely repressed his anger from striking out at the little face with its dropped jaw. "You want me dressed as a female, then fine. Here!" He snatched up the belt and wrapped it around his waist, sliding the silver catch closed so that it hung low on his hips. Turning back to the mirror, he selected a pattern in his mind and then ran his palm down over his face, using magic to apply an instant coating of make-up. "Here! Is this enough? High heels? A handbag? I'm sure I can conjure up a pair of breasts if that will make you happy."

Toby took a hasty step back as Jareth proceeded to throw a crystal just passed his ear. It hadn't been aimed at him, but at nothing at all. Moving swiftly, he let Jareth have his way, only bringing up a protective shield around the both of them so that the screaming, shouting and crystal throwing would hurt neither of them.

It was awe-inspiring. He'd forgotten just how creative Jareth was with his magic. But when the bed was splintered in a pile of wood shavings and shredded cloth, it was then set on fire until the ashes could be swept up and scattered over the Bog of Eternal Stench he remembered. The mirror shattered- again- and the curtains were ripped into ribbons and strewn around the room. The carpet was yanked up in handfuls and the dresser exploded into nothingness. By the time the screaming at himself, Jareth's father and Archer had ended, Jareth had collapsed weakly to the floor- not crying, but shivering and exhausted with the weight of pent up emotions.

Toby didn't dare hold him, but he did dare to put his hand out and stroke the silver-blond hair. Jareth didn't stop him. So he sidled closer and stroked more firmly. He barely had time to register before Jareth had whipped around on his knees and latched firmly onto his hips, pulling him forward.

Toby barely opened his mouth to protest when his jeans were snapped open and then Jareth's mouth- that delicious, lipstick red mouth- was wrapped around him and the pressure, dear God, the suction! He yelped and tried to pull away. But the cruel fingers tightened on his hips and then one hand slid around to pull him even closer.

'_This was what you wanted,_' Jareth said in his mind, '_You wanted this._'

"No," Toby gasped, holding on for dear life, as his senses narrowed just to that cool, wet mouth, "Not like this."

'_Look at me,_' Jareth urged, '_you wanted me like this._'

Looking down at the blazing eyes with the silver and blue lids, the high cheekbones rouged and thinly drawn mouth painted scarlet. He looked like some kind of glorious painting, especially when he slid just the tip of his tongue out and tipped his defiant head back to Toby's stare.

'_You wanted me on my knees. Just like everyone else._'

"No, I- I didn't…"

The tongue withdrew. The helpless anger intensified, this time added to bewilderment. '_Then what did you want? What am I to do? What do you want me to do?_'

"I don't know…"

'_Then how can I? I know nothing else. What else can I give you?_'

"Get up." Urging Jareth to his feet so that at least he could have the comfort of his height. "Get up and talk to me. Use words. Please. Just talk to me!"

Jareth looked down at him and shook his head. "I don't have words," he whispered, "I can be a King and I can be a lover. You don't need a King and you don't want a lover."

"I need a husband."

The Goblin King flinched and dropped his hand. "I never quite liked the last time," he said evasively, "I don't think I could do that again."

"Jareth, you proposed to me. Remember? I begged you to take me back but you offered marriage. Why did you do that if you doubted what you could do?"

"Because I had Archer. I could talk to him." The poison was seeping back into his brain and he could feel the little electric trills along his nerve-endings. "He knew more about me than any living soul. And he had never offered me harm. As long as I had Archer I was safe. He took me down from trees and held me while the healer… did his task. He let me cry. He told me that it was all right to love. He told me again and again to stop going to my father's bed and I couldn't; it always felt so good and I couldn't. Archer…"

"Is dead. He betrayed you and you killed him," Toby said firmly, matching each pace that Jareth retreated with an advance.

"Do you think I don't know that?" The raw silk voice was back to barely repressed violence. "I went on my knees to him and I remember. But he put me in whore's clothes just as you do and you think I don't know why you're already half-hard?"

"No, you don't. I got hard watching you dress, not taking off your clothes," the mortal snapped, flushing slightly with mortification. He had hoped Jareth wouldn't notice but then the Goblin King always had known- every time. "I don't put you in whore's clothes. You wore a similar outfit when you lived Aboveground. In the seventies? England? Glam Rock, wasn't it? How could I forget! My mother adores her old records and I grew up listening to all of them- the Sweet, Gary Glitter, Elton John, T-Rex, Slade, Queen, the New York Dolls. Want more? What's so different now?"

"The difference was that, then, it was all a game. I wore what I wore because no one forced me. I had a choice."

"I gave you a choice too, Jareth."

They stared at each other, Jareth against the door, Toby a foot away. The distance was covered with two quick steps and Jareth could be left in no doubt of his options. He could reach for the handle- already his hand was on it- and he could leave this situation immediately. Or he could stay and work things out.

"You said you knew only sex," Toby reminded him, "Well, then, let's try what you're comfortable with first. If this doesn't work, I won't push you. If it does, we try things my way tomorrow and we talk. Deal?"

"It shouldn't work like that." '_I can't. Please don't make me._'

"I can, and it can." No other options. Toby wouldn't give him a way out of this. The silver and blue lids swept down as the Goblin King shut his eyes and then Toby looped his fingers through the belt and tugged, one hand clasping a handful of moon-blond hair as leverage. The head came down and cool red lips met his, caressing and biting in equal measures.

A swift motion and Jareth had traded places. The belt came in useful, though and Toby made full use of this perfect way to grind their bodies together.

'_Harder_' he moaned '_God, so hard!_'

'_Yes, I know. Why? Aren't you disgusted?_'

"Should I be?" Toby asked aloud, his mouth freed as his neck was attacked.

'_A tendency to incest is not something most people like in their partners_,' Jareth replied. His lover whimpered as he bit at the skin over his jugular, feeling the blood pump faster at his touch. Small pants ruffled the hair on his own neck and he lifted his head, capturing Toby's mouth again. His hand encouraged Toby to lift one leg to his waist, held it for him with strength from the-Gods-knew-where as he began to rock in earnest. A tiny mewl as a particularly sensitive spot was rubbed and he tried it again, rejoicing in the same tiny soft sound.

'_So? Not your fault. Oh yes, love, just there!_'

Jareth growled in frustration. Having a conversation and having sex was too hard! No wonder he had never had conversations with his ex-lovers; he never waited around after he was satiated. Himself, he had his first alarming experience of being turned off. But his lover seemed to have no such problem, so he pushed his hand between their bodies and used that instead. The just mending bone protested the rough usage very loudly, causing him to bite down hard enough to leave a definite bruise.

The loud gasp of his name made him look up and take in the breath-stealing sight: electric blue eyes fixed desperately on his, the wide mouth swollen and red with kisses, the pink flush of orgasm on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose and ears, bright gold tumbling around his face to create the perfect frame to such a picture.

He propped the both of them against the door, leaning heavily on Toby as his own meagre strength gave out for a few minutes.

"Sorry," he apologized at length, "I do not know how…"

"It's okay. You didn't even have to," Toby panted, "Don't think I could have stopped but…"

"No, it is all right. I didn't mind."

"You hurt your hand though. May I see?" Toby asked, holding out his own hand for the bandaged limb.

Jareth hesitated for a minute and then gave it to him. He studied the down-turned face for a few minutes, noting that Toby had to blink a few times to get his dilated pupils to focus again. A golden flick of hair was in the mortal's face and he used his good hand to obligingly hold it away, barely hearing the murmur of thanks as he hissed at the slightly clumsy examination.

"Sorry," Toby sighed, "It's not broken again, thankfully. But you should rest it more. Taking a bath and dressing did no good. Giving me a hand job was worse." Blushing a little, he looked up to Jareth's silent eyes. "I'm sorry it didn't work. I understand if you want me to leave. I need to change anyway."

The way was clear. All he had to do was say something dismissive. But there was an odd residue in his mouth and Jareth was quite surprised to remember this taste from somewhere else. Life. Feelings tasted like this. And quite plainly he was still terrified. But it was still something to do. "I never asked you to leave. Come; I think I need shoes with this… dress. Do you agree?"

He swanned away to the window and didn't bother with the look of shock on Toby's face.


	19. Pretty Face

Toby hadn't expected Jareth to turn up. He had expected that the Goblin King would simply forget or refuse. But there he was- sitting down in the window as if the entire day before had never happened.

"What did you want to say to me?" Jareth asked, arranging the billowing sleeves around his arms, "Or have I wasted my time?"

Ah, Toby decided, it was bitterness for the day. "You haven't wasted your time. But I'm not sure yet what I want to say to you." He waited while his husband shrugged and turned away, taking his words as a warning. "How did you sleep last night?"

"My hand hurts."

"I'm sorry."

Jareth looked around with indifferent surprise. "What for?" he murmured, "You never broke it."

"And your shoulder?" Toby asked.

Another shrug, this time with only his good shoulder. 'I couldn't be bothered' was what that gesture said and it boded very ill for the impending conversation.

Toby realized that. And understood it a little too. After all, the depression was fairly deep and people handled it in different ways. Jareth was obviously not handling it very well at all because he simply refused to fight any of it. He just sat there, gazing unseeing out into the overcast sky of yet another cold winter's day and making absent misty patterns on the windowpanes with his breath. Nothing registered- not the Labyrinth, not his Kingdom, not the goblins- nothing! The mortal wasn't quite sure what to say.

"I didn't know you owned a guitar," seemed about the most ridiculous thing to say at this point but Toby had said it. He wished he hadn't, but there it was.

From the look on Jareth's face, it was certainly an unusual choice of conversation considering the circumstances. "I do," the Goblin King allowed, "But that has no bearing on what we have to say, does it? Will you leave now?"

Another interesting change of topic. "No, I don't think so; not unless you actually chase me away."

"I can hardly walk let alone chase. Any chasing I do is all in your imagination."

"Okay, then- if you don't push me away," Toby countered swiftly. He caught the knowing glimmer in mismatched eyes and gave up. "I won't go. But I would like it if I wasn't here just so you could be comfortable. I don't want to stay because I have to."

"I'm afraid you must… unless you like the thought of sharing me with our son." Jareth hadn't meant to sound quite as sleazy as all that, and he cringed inwardly at the words. The thought didn't appeal to him, but the sins of the father…

"For God's sake, you won't sleep with Aidan," Toby exploded, "I know you! You would never sleep with him! You're not in the least interested in sleeping with him. You don't even find him attractive."

"You never found me attractive until after the rape," Jareth pointed out quietly. The biscuit-coloured shirt looked particularly warm as compared to the stark white of his face and chest; the silver look hadn't exactly faded as yet. "As I recall, you refused to even consider having a man in your bed until he put himself there forcibly."

He watched with some twisted sense of satisfaction as the mortal rocked back on his heels as if the words had been a physical blow. The library was no place for this, the Goblin King decided, and he could wish Toby had chosen another room. There had been too many happy times here for him to feel quite safe about bringing his misery in. And in the Underground, the spoken word was such a tangible power; Jareth didn't like to think he would speak of these things where his children frequently came. Especially not since he had only to close his eyes and see Archer sitting in that leather chair again, a cigarette in hand and his eyes and voice tender as he invited his cousin to talk.

"The rape had nothing to do with it. You wouldn't rape Aidan."

"I almost raped you."

"No, you didn't!"

"Twice that I recall- once was at the feast…"

"Where you stopped, Jareth."

"Yes, but not through any finer feelings, I do assure you… and the other was the night after Archer's death. You bled quite freely, I believe."

Toby sighed and shook his head, not noticing that the action threw sparks around the room as the firelight behind him glittered on the golden strands. "You didn't rape me; I chose that. I wanted the pain, Jareth. I needed it."

Dual-coloured eyes raked sternly over him again and again, as if trying to memorize him or look right into his very core. "You fall so far into darkness. I had forgotten."

Toby insistently pushed away the panic that came with realizing that Archer had said those same words to him. This wasn't about Archer and he'd be damned if he got sidetracked now. "And now you remember. Face it, Jareth- there's always pain when we make love. It's not like we were actually constructed to fit as easily as male and female."

"And once again, we are back to your fundamental belief that what we do to each other is wrong," Jareth commented, "Why am I not surprised?"

"Because you know you're talking a load of bullshit!"

The shout didn't exactly startle anyone; Jareth had been pressing all of Toby's annoyance buttons with a very deft- if disinterested- touch. It was something to do. It was a way to live until all this mind-numbing agony left him either dead or mentally incapable of thinking straight. He didn't care! Why didn't Toby just give up? It was hopeless for him and the immortal knew that. He couldn't be healed.

"What exactly did Archer do you, Jareth?"

"He used me." There was no sense in beating around the bush. Jareth didn't feel as if there was any anger left in him to channel. "He fell in love and wanted to become my entire world. I understand that feeling."

"So do I," Toby agreed robustly, "But he enslaved you. Don't tell me you forgive him that?"

"The only difference between my father and Archer is that the former never needed to put a collar on me to break me. Archer simply used any means necessary to get what he wanted. I've done that myself."

"I suppose you enslaved a lot of people too," Toby snapped sarcastically.

Long legs re-crossed themselves so as to fit into the small space. "Archer and I had a lot of lovers in common," the half-goblin admitted, "I did know he had a taste for domination. I saw the tricks. He never hid it from me."

"Then why did you give Ariadne to that?"

A noticeable wince as a long-hidden guilt was dragged into the open. "I didn't care. I gave her a warning; she spat it back in my face and insisted that I give her to Archer and so I complied. She seemed willing and eager. And I trusted that Archer would never actually hurt her."

Silence dragged for a few moments as Jareth looked back out the window, struggling as the depression began to break under the sorrow. He bit the inside of his cheek, hoping the swift pain would stop the heartache. But it didn't; nothing ever did.

"You should have seen her. She was so scared and broken. The things he had done to her I would never have done to my worst enemy. Even I- ruthless as people think me- would never have stomached that. He blinded her…"

Toby swallowed thickly, remembering the snatches of brief conversation in which Archer had cheerfully spoken of his 'beloved' Ariadne as enjoying her new life. Only to find out that she was alone and terrified. It was a hideous image. "I'm sorry, Jareth; I really am."

"I know."

Where was that connection, that spark that always set off another argument and another revelation? It had always worked for them, why not again? Why was life so unutterably unfair! "Jareth, I…"

The moon-blond head turned slightly, not looking to him but obviously willing to listen. "What?" the Goblin King prompted.

"I love you."

More silence. Only this time, Jareth held out his hand to draw his husband to his side, draping Toby's arm over his bad shoulder and holding him there so they could stare out together. "Do you know what I see when I close my eyes?" he eventually asked.

Toby shook his head. He didn't need to speak. The voice was plaintive, a throwback to those days when Jareth's mind had run in circles and he had had very little actual control over himself.

"I see nothing. There was always something- colours or changing shapes… sometimes, actual dreams replaying behind my lids. But now there's nothing. If I could feel, it would scare me. I can't live like this, my elf, I need to escape."

"You can if you would talk to me," Toby swore, tightening his grip on Jareth's fingers as the panic swept over them both. "I won't let you die."

"I have lived for almost five hundred years," the Goblin King sighed, "I cannot keep doing this! Loving and losing and being made to pay are not burdens I can bear. All I asked for was some fun and a few adventures. I got a depraved childhood and a wild Kingdom."

"You have me."

"I had you. You're as lost to me as everything else. I corrupted you. Before me you were the Snow Prince. And then I drew you too close to the fire. Now you're simply an overly tired, overly worried mortal who would change his life if he could."

"I don't want to change my life," Toby protested. Jareth craned his head back to glare at him. "Alright, certain parts of it. The parts where people keep trying to kill me or hurt me, especially. But not the parts with you or the Underground or the kids. I told you I love you; what more can I give that you need?"

"What if experiencing that rape was the payment you needed to make to stay with me?" Jareth questioned, "If it had not been for the time Aboveground, you would have aged as all mortals do and I would never have taken you back."

"Aged?"

"My symptoms were never good," Jareth said cryptically.

Toby considered the statement for a while as he frowned down at Jareth's hair. He absently rubbed his thumb over the gloved hand in his, hating the leather and vaguely wishing that it were gone. Jareth only wore those gloves out of habit now; he wasn't really that cold anymore. "Okay, explain it to me- what symptoms are we talking about?"

"I believe very strongly that moral mistakes are carried from generation to generation; a sort of hereditary disease, if you will. My father began the cycle through necessity. I took you very young, just as my father took me,and I would be lying if I said that youth didn't excite me. It turned me on that you had never had a man before. Innocence is a powerful aphrodisiac... and Aidan is very innocent."

"He would fight you, Jareth. His moral sense is stronger than either of ours."

Jareth laughed, a low disillusioned laugh. "His sense of honour in regards to himself is stronger than either of ours. But not his morals; not with those he loves. And unfortunately he loves me. Why, I can't tell you; but he does."

Toby heard the footsteps approaching and took his hand away, tapping the Goblin King on the shoulder to silence him before the door opened. These conversations were private and the scandal they could cause was not something the mortal relished. So he waited to see the handle turn and the intruder enter.

"Oh."

Jareth paled and pressed against the window in a sudden attack of chilling fear.

"Aidan!" Toby risked a glance back to his husband just to make sure that he would not faint from sheer terror before walking quickly to his son. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to get a book," Aidan said, eyes fixed on his father in a kind of hungry anxiety, "I didn't mean to intrude. Excuse me." He half-left and then gave up the pretence. "How- how do you feel now?"

Jareth almost shrugged, but rolled his eyes at how much of a habit that gesture was becoming. "I am better," he offered instead, "Thank you. I hear you are advising Arradine on the best ways to run a Kingdom."

The child actually smiled, beaming a little with humour as he recalled some of the expressions on the faces of the nobles 'advising' them. "We are. Arradine was a little nervous, but we sorted that out. I left the records on your desk." He pointed to the slowly growing pile of documents to the Goblin King's right. "I know you're ill, but I thought you would want to be kept informed."

"I see." Jareth nodded and felt the corner of his mouth twitch just a little at that naïve self-importance. "I appreciate the thought, though it seems hardly necessary. The captives have been sent to the Castle?"

Aidan hesitated and then turned pink. "King Armand writes that he will bring them to us personally as soon as he has captured them. The letter is there."

"Bring them personally?! When?" Jareth was on his feet and tossing letters about with abandon at the thought of having to play host in his condition. "Why was this not told me?"

Toby sighed at Aidan and shook his head. "You just had to tell him, didn't you? Calm down, Jareth. The letter's on the floor by your feet… yes, the blue one. And we didn't tell you because this was how you'd react."

"I should think I had the right to! Were you expecting to keep me locked in a room while the bloody King of the Fairies tramped through my halls?"

The Goblin Prince was busy trying to decide whether he should tear out his golden hair in handfuls or just bang his head on the nearest wall. "We didn't want to disturb you, Father. Arradine wanted to tell you personally, but we thought…"

"Thought what?" Jareth spat. "There are certain things you cannot do, Aidan! Insulting the fae royalty is not something I need right now."

Blue eyes grew guarded and cold. "I was more concerned with the entourage," Aidan said clearly, "And the contingent of soldiers."

Activity stopped as two pairs of confused eyes looked to the part-goblin standing with deceiving nonchalance beside the door. Toby was the first to break, being close enough to smell the vague hint of uneasiness; there were times it really did pay to have a wolf as his animus.

Jareth was unpleasantly surprised by that reference to fairy soldiers. Of course, it couldn't mean what he had thought of, but…

"I know these are not the same fairies, but they are soldiers. You were raped by soldiers."

The letter fluttered noiselessly to the ground as Jareth's entire body went nerveless. A sudden rushing in his ears became something of dire urgency and he was barely aware that all the blood had drained from his face, leaving a cold grey mask of horror in its place. Aidan said something- he could see the delicately drawn mouth move- and then Toby was shoving him into a chair and telling Aidan to leave.

"No, wait! Damn it, wait!" He struggled away, knowingly sinking his nails into Toby's arm to make the mortal stop restraining him. Aidan was backing towards the door looking guilty. "Aidan, stop. Come here."

"I think I should leave…"

"No, you should explain. What soldiers? What are you talking about?"

The pink flush of anger deepened. "I remember what happened with those soldiers. I remember."

Jareth shook his head, fingers plucking nervously at his neck. "Not possible," he decreed, "You were too young."

"I know, but I remember. They touched you and made you do those things." Aidan's voice was clinical, as if he were discussing the merits of a horse or a book of poetry he had recently finished- straight and slender, an early growth spurt shooting him up almost to his father's height; golden hair clipped severely back from his face with a jewelled clip. "One of the females had a tattoo on her left thigh."

"Not possible," his father repeated.

"You were enjoying it. They hurt you, but you enjoyed it. And then something happened. That fairy- the one who captured you- he did something to you and you screamed and fell. I wanted to go to you but he wouldn't let me. And then you asked him to stop, but none of them would stop. They never stopped."

Toby stayed back and let the two fight their demons on their own. He couldn't quite make out what Aidan was describing. It did, though, sound very much like their son had observed something no child of five should have seen.

It seems he was right. "I told you to shut you eyes," Jareth rasped, feeling the icy cold shock of fear sift through him once more.

"I did! But I only had two hands and I could hear you scream. You cried and I couldn't do anything until after they were done. You couldn't even recognize me, then."

"Archer should have sent you away."

Aidan concentrated on that name; it seemed familiar. "That was the fairy? I can't remember his name. I know I didn't like him, though."

Jareth waved the statement impatiently away. He was mortified, shamed beyond all rational thought. He had tried so hard and in the end it hadn't been enough. He could only imagine what it must have been like to see a parent abused so very badly. He knew he had almost given up after that day; but for Aidan! The child must have been terrified!

"Which is why I didn't want you to see the soldiers. Arradine does not know, but I did ask her to give orders that no fae soldier is to set foot inside the Goblin City. The barracks can house them and you need never see them. I didn't want to give you more pain." The calm voice finally broke.

There were many things that the Goblin King could have said to that. And there were many things he could have done. He wanted to order Aidan from the room and hide in some dark corner until the shudders stopped racketing up and down his body. He wanted to break something just to know that he wasn't completely powerless. But his son… and those blue eyes…

"Come here. Toby, could you leave us for a few minutes?"

Toby almost roused himself from a dream-like daze to those words. Jareth was asking to be left alone with what he feared the most in both the worlds? "Are you sure?" Toby asked, unable to actually believe it.

Jareth sent him an expressive glance and nodded to the door. "You are welcome to stay," he said, "But I do need to speak with Aidan alone."

Toby nodded. Aidan refused to even look at him as they brushed past each other. The mortal paused in the doorway to a very troubling and very strange sight. Jareth was still looking at him, a kind of wistful look in his eyes, and then that gaze tore away from him to Aidan.

"Come with me, luv. Sit down."

Toby shut the door and left them alone.


	20. Celebrate

Author's Note: Things are working out. Aidan never deserved those memories and Jareth never should have forgotten that his pain affected those around him as well. Fortunately, I think people will like this chapter; it's less angst-y, and happy in a soothing way.

-------------------------------------------

The ball was, in short, splendid.

Nobles and important persons from every race and House in the Known Underground were present to wish the recovering Goblin King long life and good health. Toby thought it was all a bit premature, but since only five percent of those dying from fear ever recovered, he was prepared to blaze it across the sky in fire. Whatever Jareth had said to Aidan that day, Aidan had obviously said something right back. The Goblin King had made a conscious effort after that to try to get better. And it was working.

The flap of enormous wings shook the room slightly and those in attendance quivered with shock. A lady screamed and cowered back in her seat and her companion fainted.

Jareth rolled his eyes and motioned for calm. "This is not an invasion," he called bluntly, "The Draconites were invited by my orders."

People stopped fainting and began staring at the door and murmuring behind their hands. The doors were open, welcoming, and Jareth had dispensed with the irritating notion of being announced. He reasoned that if he didn't know the person entering, then the person wasn't important enough. He didn't expect the draconites just yet. They had asked to be taken to a room where they could adopt appropriate dress for the formal occasion. He didn't expect Zaraith for another hour.

But the three figures entering the door were expected, and were late. The Goblin King signalled to his bond mate to come to his side and extricated himself from conversation to greet his new guests.

Toby took his arm in concern, noticing the slight sigh of tiredness. It would be a long night for his husband and he did wish that Jareth hadn't agreed to this when he was still so weak.

"Your Majesty," Jareth greeted politely, "Welcome."

"Thank you, Jareth," Armand answered, offering an innocently sunny smile in return, "I left the, uh, good-will gifts below with your guards."

Jareth waved the mention of his captives away with an imperious hand. "Forget your duties for the night," he invited, "Tonight is for celebration. Though I don't presume you rejoice as much as all that."

Blue-flecked green eyes opened wide in surprised innocence. "Not rejoice at your recovery? Your Majesty, I protest at such an insult. I was almost prostrated at the news of your battle with grim death."

Toby raised an eyebrow at the tall young fae, finding mockery in the words. Jareth just smirked. "Hmmm… I suppose I should be grateful for that. Permit me to introduce you to my consort. Armand; Toby Williams. Toby; Amarild's little brother."

A faint shadow swept over the handsome face looking down at him as the words spun briskly through the air with a cold snap.

The mortal bowed slightly. Ignoring the rather acid remark, Toby murmured, "It is a pleasure, Your Majesty. It is to be hoped that we can put aside our differences for this evening. It was kind of you to join us."

Armand relaxed a little and shockingly enough held out his hand to offer a firm handshake. "I believe this is the proper Aboveground greeting," he said peaceably, "Personally I hate bowing to people. I always wonder if I'm not offering my neck to a hidden sword!"

Toby laughed and shook hands. "I never thought of it that way. But when you think about how crowded it can get in places like this, a knife in the ribs won't be too hard to manage either, will it?"

They moved from the entrance, unaware that two figures on the other side of the ballroom were watching them in sudden interest. Well, perhaps it was one figure with his companion; for, at the sight of the current King of the Fairies, Aidan had stopped slouching against the wall and stood stock still in shock. Arradine, standing next to him, merely looked amused.

"See something you like, little brother?" she teased.

"He… but… who…"

"Oh, Aidan!" she laughed, unfurling her fan and fluttering it charmingly, "Do close your mouth and look elsewhere! You're staring too hard."

"He's beautiful…"

"He's a fairy!"

Aidan nodded soundlessly and actually shifted position so that he could get a better look. All he could see, really, was the light of the glowing candles brilliantly polish the crimson-streaked chestnut hair and add subtle richness to the long white coat.

The Princess snapped her fan shut and dropped the humour. It was all very well for Aidan to have his first serious case of crush-at-first-sight, but he certainly did fall into trouble far too easily. The son of the Goblin King could not, after all, just fall head over heels for the King of the Fairies! Never mind that the fae in question was stunning.

"Aidan, you do know who that is, do you not?"

Movement from the corner of her eyes distracted her momentarily and she turned swiftly with a cautious expression, only to sigh in relief at the sight of her cousin. "Harvey. Harvey, you have to help me; Aidan's got a crush."

The hazel eyes went wide. "No! Where? Do we know him?"

"Know him? He's busy staring at that male there!" She nodded discreetly to where the Fae King and his retinue were gathered, all dressed in white and standing aloof.

Harvey squinted a little and clicked his tongue when the fat dwarf in his line of sight wouldn't move but kept blocking the view. Finally, finally, the gold-coated personage moved and Harvey was treated to his first sight of his cousin's taste in men. He whistled in shock and then dropped his jaw when Armand unknowingly turned his face to the light. "Gawd," he gawked.

Arradine groaned in exasperation and covered her eyes. "You cannot be serious. The Fae Effect, I suppose." Moving quickly, she hit the dark-haired youth on the head with the carved handle of her fan and huffed at him. "Stop staring. One of you is bad enough. Aidan, would you please just swallow and pick your jaw up from the floor?"

Aidan stayed silent. Harvey looked from his cousin to the fae and continued to absently rub the substantial bruise on his head. "You know," the mortal commented, "In my world, when you have a crush on someone, you usually go talk to them."

"Talk to whom?" Sarah called out gaily, sneaking up on them with a wicked grin and a glass of wine in her hand. Both Harvey and Arradine jerked, but Aidan continued to stare with glassy eyes somewhere in the direction of the eastern side of the room. "What's with the fish?" she demanded, gesturing to her nephew.

Arradine latched thankfully onto her aunt's shoulder. "Sarah, you have got to help me! Father will kill him."

"Kill who?"

"The King of the Fairies!"

Sarah looked bewildered. "But why?" she protested, "I thought the two kingdoms were at peace. Did any villages get burnt again? Is something wrong?"

"Worse," Arradine said tragically, "Aidan's got a crush on him."

Sarah looked from the helpless girl to the completely oblivious boy and then burst out laughing so hard Harvey had to take the glass from her and keep her upright so that she wouldn't fall and tear her dress. "Oh… poor dear," she finally choked, "Poor Aidan!" And then she went off into another fit of hysterics.

Toby heard the sudden shout of laughter and jumped, whirling around to see who had slipped on which dropped piece of what, only to find his sister leaning weakly against the wall and giggling so hard she was doubled over.

"Toby? Is there something wrong?" Maegorod asked, nodding to the spectacle.

Only his family, the mortal mourned silently. "No, Maegorod. That's my sister. I'll, uh, introduce you when she's sobered down a bit. God, I should have warned her about the wines!"

Jareth appeared at his elbow, looking half amused and half annoyed. "Toby, why exactly is Sarah in a fit of hysterics?" His bond mate could only shrug and introduce Maegorod to Jareth in the interests of politeness.

Aidan heard that laughter. Somewhere in his brain it registered that Sarah was laughing at him. It didn't help that Armand had heard it too and turned to see who it was, only to catch the young Prince staring straight into his eyes. So Aidan hurriedly turned around to gaze blankly at Sarah.

Arradine just threw up her hands and walked away.

Which is when it happened.

A silent whisper ran around the room and in a wave of consciousness people turned from their conversations to the arched entranceway, where three more figures were illuminated in the soft golden light. The woman and man on the left and right turned their orange and purple eyes slowly around the room, a hand on each of the middle figure's shoulders as if to pull him to safety at the first hint of trouble. The figure in the middle searched the crowd for another reason entirely.

Jareth smirked quietly to himself. Even the prospect of his recovery was not quite ingenious enough to beat the appearance of the Draconite Lord in the Castle at the centre of the Labyrinth. And certainly not when it was his recovery that the Draconite Lord was supposedly there to celebrate.

He pushed through the crowd to stand before the three, offering a short bow for courtesy's sake. "Welcome, my Lord; Hergoh. I am honoured with your presence. And your's, of course, Varlan."

Purple eyes narrowed at him.

Zaraith stifled a smile and interjected before the usual trading of insults began. "It was kind of you to include us in the invitation, Your Majesty. We are- all three- honoured to congratulate you on your recent recovery."

Toby came up to take Jareth's arm, smiling with friendly delight to see three more people he knew. "I think you've made quite an entrance," he remarked, looking over his shoulder, "Jareth, you're upstaged."

Varlan contented himself with a chuckle that could have been polite laughter or could have been a delighted snigger.

"I cede my place willingly," Jareth returned, gesturing the three into the room, in too good a humour to bother overmuch with insults. The sight of his blushing firstborn brought a brief niggling worry to his mind. Surely a girl's eyes never sparkled that much at the sight of someone she was indifferent to? "My Lord, I believe you know my daughter- Arradine."

Zaraith turned his green eyes to the slender figure that dropped a graceful curtsey to him. He smelt the air delicately and sifted through the scents for the matching smell to that soft pink aura. And there it was- the smell of crisp snow on sleeping earth. "Your Highness," he smiled, bowing low to her, "You are beautiful tonight."

Arradine muttered something that she could not, for the life of her, ever remember afterwards. Her blush deepened when she noticed that everyone in the room was staring at her and wondering at her lack of composure. The fact that her dad was barely keeping a grin from his face made her glare at him as Zaraith took her hand and gently kissed the back in old-fashioned courtesy.

Jareth blinked in no little worry between the two and then frowned. He wasn't quite sure that he liked this state of affairs. Though he grudgingly admitted that his daughter had taken extra pains to look her best and was currently too starry eyed to be excited over a ball with a lot of boring people. He'd seen enough of women to know they only looked like that at the person they were in love with. He glared at the back of Zaraith's cream robe.

Toby caught that glare and felt the laughter bubble up harder in his throat. He caught Sarah's eye and looked to the velvet-draped ceilings in a fleeting gesture of frustration. The older woman nodded back and smiled widely, nodding to Aidan's sneaking glances back at Armand. Toby shook his head at her and turned back to pay attention to the charming little tableau that Jareth was now fuming at.

"It has been a long time since I was here," Zaraith was commenting, "And as I recall, the Goblin Castle made the best wines in the Underground."

Varlan sniffed again delicately. It was not at all secret that the little Princess was experiencing a rather exaggerated delight in his Lord's presence; her body temperature was rising with the emotion and he was certain that she shone with a somewhat brighter glow. Not to mention the Goblin King was radiating annoyance beside him. "I will confess that the journey here was long," he sighed innocently, "Wine would be much appreciated."

Jareth opened his mouth to answer that when Toby cut in smoothly- "Of course. Arradine will see to your needs. Jareth, I'm sorry to be rude, but I require you to come with me."

The Goblin King was seething and Toby tried not to laugh as he saw that black look. Tapping the blue coated shoulder, he drew Jareth's attention away from Zaraith to more pressing matters. "Love, I think we have a problem."

Mismatched eyes fixed instantly on him with concern. A hand clasped his arm and the other took a light hold of his waist. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Toby grinned, "But I think our kids are all grown up."

His husband looked confused so he sent a pointed glance over Jareth's shoulder to where Aidan was still sneaking looks at Armand while holding a conversation with a goblin friend. "Our son seems to have developed an interest in someone else."

The first look on Jareth's face was fear, and then relief, and then curiosity. He made to turn but Toby quickly put a hand to his face and shook his head.

"I wouldn't advise it. Aidan's already being obvious enough without us showing the whole world we see it too. Uh, just to let you know- you won't like it."

"I won't?" Jareth asked.

Toby shook his head. "No." The hand tightened on his waist and he almost purred. "Okay, okay, I'll tell you. Geez! What's with the Spanish Inquisition? If you must know, he's taken a shine to a fairy."

Jareth considered that thought. "Is that all? There is nothing wrong with that. Fairies are beautiful creatures. And Lady Carif is a beautiful female. She is married, but I suppose that will make no difference for a few dances."

Toby bit his lower lip and shook his head. "Actually, it's not Lady Carif. It's a male. I, uh, haven't gotten around to telling you that I suspect Aidan's gay, have I?"

"WHAT?"

Four people in the near vicinity threw startled glances at the pair by the wall. Jareth was practically quivering. Toby took his hand and offered an apologetic glance to those who looked disapprovingly at them for such a public display. Drawing him away to the concealed balcony and shutting the door firmly behind them.

"Jareth, stop worrying. What's so wrong if Aidan is gay?"

"But he… he's… he's too young!"

Toby giggled at that comical combination of worry and desperation. "He's sixteen, Jareth. He turned sixteen two weeks ago. Remember? We gave him a crystal and he asked to keep it for a private moment? We're two men; why can't Aidan like men too?"

"Because… because he's supposed to like women!" Very real fear was encroaching into that breathless voice and Toby heard the danger signals.

"It's all right, love, breathe. Look, just because he likes men, doesn't mean he's going to behave stupidly because of it. This won't effect what you are to him. You are his father and nothing else; not to him. Okay?"

A gloved hand found the mortal's shoulder as Jareth nodded and took a deep breath, calming himself down by the light of the full moon. "Very well. You are right; I'm behaving very badly."

"No, you're behaving like the irrational creature I know and love."

Jareth offered a weak smirk- "You say that so often," he commented.

Toby growled playfully and looped his arms around his husband's neck. They didn't sleep together- not really- and neither of them were ready to restart that physical connection that usually swept them off their feets into an emotional desire that was bigger that themselves. But touching was allowed, and he loved to be held close, to feel strong arms wrap around him with the silent promise of holding him safe. And he loved to push that blasted medallion aside and listen to the soft heartbeats that sounded like the slow turning of the earth itself.

"Dad? Father, are you alright?"

Toby lifted his head and lowered his arms, sighing as he turned to face Aidan. "Everything is fine. What are you doing out here?"

"Intruding, or so it seems." The tone was light and teasing- no different than usual- but there was a breathless excitement to that deepened voice, a kind of thrilled exuberance.

Jareth was staring at the boy with hooded eyes, trying to see past that god-awful starry glint to whether this was merely infatuation or something deeper. He didn't believe it was deeper, but one never knew. After all, he had bonded with an infant. Bond! "Aidan, whatever you do tonight," he said clearly, "Promise me you will not bond with anyone."

Aidan looked surprised, then cautious, then a little worried, and then back to surprised. He nodded silently, and then stiffened when his parents looked over his shoulder with a shocked stare. He turned… and gulped.

"Is there something wrong?" Armand asked casually, "Some way in which I can be of assistance perhaps?"

"No," Toby answered quickly, since neither Aidan nor Jareth seemed quite ready to speak. Aidan looked more like a lamb confronting a starving wolf and Toby was certain that if the immortal opened his mouth right then he would make bleating noises. "Uh, excuse us. Jareth, we have to go back inside."

Jareth glowered at Armand's innocent look of enquiry. "Why did you come out?" he asked bluntly.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty, but you are not yet fully recovered," Armand said reasonably, "I thought perhaps you felt unwell. In which case, I was prepared to offer my help in any way possible. My suspicions were aroused when Prince Aidan followed you out."

If the Goblin King expected his son to swoon in ecstasy at hearing his name mentioned by someone he felt so attracted to, he was thankful to be proved wrong. A brief glow of delight flickered in the knowing blue eyes, but Aidan held himself well, gathering his natural pride and composure back to cloak his feelings.

'_Come, Toby. We're no longer required_,' the half-goblin muttered mentally, '_I refuse to have my entire evening spoilt by these two hormone soaked children_.'

'_Excuse me? Armand is forty-three! He's older than I am! If he's a child what am I?_' Toby sent back, looking up at him with a mock pout.

Jareth smiled down at him and flicked his finger against Toby's cheek in a careless caress; not knowing the joy it would bring to his bond mate. '_An elf, naturally_,' he put forward, '_Or my child. My beloved mortal child._'

Toby gladly accepted that. Maybe there were all sorts of psychological issues in that notion that his world would frown on, but he actually liked the thought of being a child-lover for his husband. It took Jareth away from the fear and in return guaranteed him the kind of dominant, possessive husband he craved.

The two walked back inside without even a glance for their silent audience, too engrossed in their own private conversation to notice. Aidan stared after them and then glanced at Armand. "They communicate mentally sometimes," he explained, tapping a finger to his left temple, "They do not mean to be rude, Your Majesty."

"Oh, I took no offence from it, Your Highness. It has proved my point at any rate."

"Which is?"

"That formal bindings are best carried out between two people already bonded to each other." Armand conjured up a shimmer of dust that sifted into a comfortable couch. He sat at one end and stared out to the sky. "The sky is magnificent from here."

Aidan took a step closer. "Yes, it is." He waited a few minutes as the breeze ruffled playfully at his austerely tied hair. He hated it waving around his face, though he was in no doubt that the style certainly suited his companion's delicate beauty. Armand would not be much taller than him, and at the current moment he seemed to be almost a lost figure as he sat and traced the faint outlines of clouds in the starless sky with his bluey-green eyes. "If you listen carefully, you can hear the songs from the Goblin City as they celebrate too," he offered, walking to the railing, "And usually one can scent the flowers from the garden below on the air, but in winter it's naturally impossible."

Green eyes looked to him with a friendly humour. "Naturally."

Aidan smiled ruefully and shrugged, leaning casually on the railing, not aware that he made a pretty picture when highlighted by the moon. Armand was aware of it, and he enjoyed it in an objective kind of way. It never occurred to him to think of the child in that light because clearly the Goblin King would rip him to pieces for even harbouring such a notion. It was unthinkable! There had never been fae royalty binding with goblin royalty. Both Houses would have thought it anathema, now even more so than a century ago.

"This garden," the fae continued, "Would it contain the legendary flower bearing the name of your father?"

Aidan turned around and smiled. "Yes, it does, actually. Two different plants. The first is the actual plant. The second was planted by my grandmother when the first one looked to be diseased. It wasn't really, but she decided she wanted two plants anyway."

"The Lady Frielda was a very determined woman. And stubborn."

Aidan's jaw tightened slightly. His father had told him about his past, had confessed his relationship with his father and explained how the situation had come about. Aidan had been disgusted, only to find that his father feared he would somehow blame him for it. Agreeing not to judge anyone for the past was a hard promise to keep; Aidan secretly blamed his grandmother. Had she returned as asked, his father would have been spared that torment.

"The topic of conversation displeases you? Very well, let us change the subject. I observed your mortal family inside. Have you been Aboveground?"

"No, never," Aidan confessed, "I want to. But my father has always refused to send us. Perhaps one day."

"It is a wondrous place," Armand reassured, voice turning dreamy as he thought back to his own time there, "I was sent Aboveground to spend my days, you know. I was the youngest of seven children and it was thought that I would never be required for the Kingdom." His own eyes hardened somewhat. "Unfortunately a spate of unfortunate accidents befell my family. Not least of which included my sister's death from the ramparts of this Castle. No, do not say anything about it; it is ancient history and what needed to be done was done."

Aidan shut his lips over the nearly escaped apology, glad that he had been stopped from speaking it because it was not his place to apologize. Amarild had brought her end on herself; he knew that and Armand knew that. He was only sorry for the pain it brought to the fascinating creature sitting on the couch.

The Fae King looked up and caught that sympathetic look in blue eyes. Blue eyes ringed with lashes so pale they were almost invisible… sharp cheekbones in an expressive little face… a warm, wide mouth with delicately drawn lips… a strong jaw and a slender nose that defied any to challenge the youth… Aidan was a picture. With his slender, almost feminine grace and his long fingered hands, he was a picture. From the set of his simple midnight blue jacket to the heels on his grey boots, from the pearl pinning the flow of lace at his throat to the diamond studded clip in his golden hair, from the slender shoulders to the tiny waist that Armand was certain he could span with his two hands if he so chose, the immortal youth was a picture. And Armand liked pictures. But Armand especially liked pictures that intrigued him, and the knowing, wary look in those blue eyes intrigued him.

"Sit," the King of the Fairies ordered, "Perhaps we can talk as friends for a time?"

Aidan filtered the request in his mind. There was no sexual advance in it. Had he hoped for one? He was actually surprised to find that he hadn't; he hadn't wanted sex with his gorgeous creature opposite him in white and mauve because he hadn't honestly thought beyond talking to him. And Armand had been Aboveground, where the stars shone and people played electric guitars…

Aidan took a seat and nodded to his companion in a friendly fashion. "You were saying?"


	21. Topsy Turvy

Author's Note: Tsk Tsk Tsk! Ever noticed how, with kids, there's always something going wrong?

------------------------------------------------

"How dared you!"

The shout was loud, furious and very obviously for real. Three goblin servants on their way to finish cleaning the ballroom were scared into running the rest of the way. When their King used just that tone, it meant he would- in all probability- sulk for a good few weeks and go on a vicious spree. No matter how much he compensated them in his own way for the nasty way he treated them, no goblin wanted to be on the receiving end of that wrath.

Inside the room, the two guilty faces watching Jareth pace were worried but not concerned in the least.

"Father, it was an accident," his child offered, "We truly never meant that to happen."

"Never meant… never meant! Do you realize what you have just done?"

"We bonded," the other male said quietly, maintaining an aloof expression of reservation, "There can be nothing suspect about that."

Mismatched eyes blazed in the sunlight from the open windows. "You fool," Jareth hissed, advancing a threatening step, "You bloody fool! Arradine is sixteen; how dared you bond with her!"

Zaraith cracked enough to direct a regretful look towards his partner in crime. And he did truly regret what had happened. He had never begun the night expecting to bond with anyone. He had once, and she had died. While Draconites were the only race known to bond again if their bond mate died, he had never considered it possible that he would do so. And Arradine admittedly was a little young…

"Father, if you could let me explain." Arradine was close to shouting, herself, badly shocked by recent events. She liked Zaraith, strongly suspected that she liked him more than was clearly good for her, but had promised herself not to bond with anyone until she at least hit her majority at twenty-nine. "Please!"

Jareth swung around and looked at her, fury in every clipped action. "You have five minutes," he said curtly.

The girl took a deep breath. "All right. Father, neither Lord Zaraith nor I ever envisioned this happening." Not so, her mind scolded, she had. But only in conjunction with the draconite falling to his knees and swearing undying love. "It simply happened. I have the utmost respect for Lord Zaraith and I admire him very much. He is all that a good ruler should be."

Jareth raised a cold eyebrow.

"Just as you are. And just as I value your approval, so do I value his. I c-cannot possibly speak for Zaraith, but- but perhaps he sees me as a young person who he enjoys spending his t-time with. That is all."

The stammer complete, she shut her mouth and refused to turn to that green gaze burning into her profile.

Jareth stared searchingly into her eyes before snorting contemptuously. "Thank you. That explanation was most… interesting. Arradine, I don't think you realize just how serious this is."

"I do!"

"No, you do not. If you did, you wouldn't offer me something so flimsy as 'it just happened'. Bonds do not 'just happen'. They happen for a reason and you are underage for most of the reasons I can think of. And as for you…"

Zaraith cleared his throat warningly. "In private, I think," he murmured. A quick flick of the eyes and Jareth relented.

"Very well, then," the Goblin King growled, "Arradine, get out. Go tell your dad what has happened. You will find him with Sarah in the west wing. I will meet you there."

"Father, if there is something to be said about MY LIFE, then I insist on knowing it."

Before Jareth could reply in suitably biting sarcasm, Zaraith smoothly stepped in. Touching Arradine's shoulder, he guided her to the door, smiling at her slight flush of embarrassment. "Do not fear, Your Highness," the draconite soothed, "What I have to tell your father is only private in order to give you time to think. I will tell you all this evening, if you wish."

"Thank you," Arradine sighed. Shooting a venomous glance back at her father, she slipped out of the door and shut it behind her.

Zaraith turned from the shut door to Jareth. "I apologize," he said clearly, "I understand your apprehension."

"You cannot possibly understand my apprehension. Just what do you mean by her?"

A blond eyebrow rose in amusement. "I do not intend to spirit her away to my palace, Jareth. Surely you do not accuse me of that?"

The Goblin King sat down and looked unconvinced. "My daughter tells me that you and she bonded in the privacy of your rooms last night and what exactly am I to think? If you desire to keep your life and your honour, you will tell me what happened."

Zaraith considered the advisability of telling an irate half-goblin, also the favoured one of the Labyrinth, that he looked tired and should perhaps rest. No, it was not advisable. "I mean her no harm," he said.

The confines of the small sitting room were rather frustrating to him. He was used to his enormous palace and vast halls. In the Castle, Zaraith usually felt claustrophobic and very much as if he would set fire to something or knock over a priceless something-or-other by turning around. It was not that he was clumsy, but rather too conscious of himself when in small spaces.

"Arradine is a charming person," Zaraith began slowly, rubbing at his temples, "I am fond of her. She seems to enjoy my company as much as I enjoy hers. I invited her to my room in order to give her back the necklace she left in her room in my palace. We spoke, and as she says, it simply happened."

Jareth steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, thinking over that explanation. He truly did not believe that the Draconite Lord was the type to seduce innocent girls who were underage, but then one never knew. "Bonds are formed because of an emotional outreach between two people," he put forth, "Why would you need Arradine?"

The strong shoulders tensed. "It was a momentary envy for her youth," Zaraith said blandly.

"I don't believe you."

"You would do well not to insult me."

"And you are insulting my intelligence. You have been old for as long as my ancestors have lived. The history you remember is now no more than far legend even in the Underground. Only now do you feel the weight of years?"

"Then what would you have me say? I am attracted to her. Arradine is an intelligent, beautiful woman."

Jareth smirked ever so slightly. "Child," he pointed out, "She is a child. To be fair, this bond does not worry me. What does, is the idea of how this bond will change her. She is my heir, Zaraith; I cannot risk her strength of mind or resolve."

A sudden shift in the foundations and Jareth's smirk vanished. "Drat!" he said feelingly.

Zaraith sniffed and shivered for an instant, feeling the strong undercurrent of emotion-fuelled magic swim through his senses. "I assume your consort does not quite share your composure."

Jareth barely had time to shake his head before Toby appeared in the room and glared at him. He rose and took the mortal by the shoulders in a quick movement. He didn't quite know whether Toby would be angry enough to attack Zaraith, but he couldn't risk that. If even one ancient hair was harmed on the draconite's head, there would be a war. And Jareth was a little tired of wars.

"Toby, calm down," he urged.

"Calm down!" The mortal was shaking with his anger, blue eyes snapping fire and ice. "I won't! Where is he? I'll kill him."

"Toby, Arra isn't harmed," Jareth protested, trying to keep his bond mate from turning around to get to Zaraith, "He did nothing to her. The bond hurts neither of them."

"Nothing doing! I'll roast his wings for him," Toby shouted, "Let. Me. Go!"

Jareth let go.

Toby turned.

"If you come near her ever again," Toby threatened quietly, "I will spend my time killing you in the slowest way possible. And I promise you it will hurt."

Jareth rubbed his eyes in a tired gesture and then put a hand on Toby's arm. "My elf, you must listen," he gentled, "Zaraith has not hurt her. She is safe."

"She is bonded, Jareth. She's too young. She's too young! What will he do to her?" Toby was looking at Zaraith, gaze caught in those expressionless green eyes fixed on him, but talking to Jareth. He was aware of an arm sliding around his waist, of Jareth pulling him back in a comforting clasp, of a white hand pointing Zaraith to the door.

Jareth said nothing more. He understood Toby's reluctance to accept this. He had his own doubts about just what that bond would mean to Arradine and how she would handle it. But he understood the bond more than Toby did. All his bond mate's knowledge came from experience, and experience had not always been kind.

"He won't lay a hand on her," he finally promised, whispering in the shell of a golden ear, "He is too good for that."

"So was Archer…"

"I was blind to that, my elf; I am sorry. But I won't make the same mistake with Arradine. Zaraith would never hurt her. It is not his way."

"What if he pushes her too far, Jareth? You said most bond mates became lovers." Toby wasn't happy. He turned around, beseeching his husband to do something. He would have expected something like this from Aidan and in a way he would have handled that better. But Arradine! "I won't see her hurt."

"Neither will I." Cupping Toby's face in his hands. "He won't touch her while she is underage. We can't change this now, Toby, and I know she's acted like a dozy cow, but we really cannot do a thing to change this. They are bonded and that is all there is to it. Get used to it."

"Don't want to."

A hint of a smirk and the Goblin King let go, moving away to sit down again. "You have no choice."

"There has to be another way."

"No. We have two choices: accept it or not. If we don't accept it, Zaraith will take Arradine back with him to his palace and we will likely never see her again. If we accept, we can see to it that she stays safe. Which would you rather."

Blue eyes glared as a rather ugly look of petulance settled over the tiny figure standing stiffly in the room. "I would have thought you'd blow a fuse over this," Toby said bitterly, "Why are you taking this so easy?"

"My elf, I see no reason to throw a tantrum at fate."

"Fate?"

Jareth merely smiled. "Zaraith is not the only one capable of observing auras. They have been bonded since Arradine was under his protection."

Toby paled and took a step back. "What? But he never said… how?"

"I assume he did not notice. I took good care to cleanse hers as often as I could. However, last night I let nature take its course."

"You did that? But why didn't you tell me?"

"I never wanted to worry you. And I had my reasons for not wanting Zaraith to know the power he had over her then. Under his roof I do not trust him. In my Kingdom I can keep an eye on things. He has reacted very much as I would have expected from him- very honourably."

"So you knew our daughter was bonded to the Draconite Lord and you never told me."

Jareth sat up straight in some concern. He knew that tone of voice. "I would have told you as soon as ever it was confirmed. You've been busy, my elf, and I only thought…"

"To do what you've always done- not tell me things that I have the right to know. Thank you."

"Toby, where are you going?"

"Somewhere that is not here," the mortal spat, "Since I'm obviously not wanted."

Jareth stared at the door in some bewilderment. He would never understand his bond mate; never mind that they were bonded. He tried to open the connection between them but met with such vehement resistance that he didn't dare push the matter in case he caused Toby blinding pain. He hadn't meant to upset him, but on second thoughts, he supposed it was inevitable.

So he never wondered too much when no one had seen Toby for the rest of the day, or when the mortal didn't come to back to their bedchamber. He noticed when it was night, and as usual he worried about Toby being out past sunset. But his bond mate was a grown man and powerful with it; Jareth had no longer any right to go out and drag him home.

The evening meal was a silent affair, most of them too tired to make conversation. Sarah was scribbling notes at the table, still lost in a screenplay she was working on. Both Harvey and Cassandra were in a slightly morbid mood. Arradine was in her room, refusing to leave because 'people insisted on blaming her for something that was not her fault'. Aidan was half-nervous over the newest developments in his insane family, and half-excited by his nightlong conversation with someone he was beginning to like very much as a friend.

None of the guests were invited to partake of what was essentially a family thing, and Jareth thanked the gods for that; he was not in the mood to make small talk.

"Where's Toby?" Sarah eventually demanded, waving a spoon of something at the empty place at the table.

Jareth sighed internally and attempted not to snap. "I don't know," he confessed, "He's upset with me and I believe he has gone to brood somewhere."

"Oh." The woman blinked solemnly at him through her reading glasses and then looked down at her writing. "Where?"

"I don't know," Jareth rasped, feeling irritated enough with Sarah's absent-minded questions. "If I knew, I would say so."

"Keep your shirt on, Goblin King," she muttered absently, tapping her spoon on the edge of her bowl. "I'm sure he'll turn up somewhere."

"I know he will!"

She looked up again. "Then why are you so worried?"

That did it. The Goblin King got up and stalked out of the room without another word. He went to his room to make sure that Toby hadn't gone straight to bed and found the suite empty and devoid of fire-blonds. So, Toby was not in there. He went to his old suite of rooms, but those too were empty. As was the informal throne room and any other room that Toby might have possibly gone to.

He summoned his housekeeper and asked that a thorough search be made of the Castle.

Jareth reasoned that there was no reason to fear anything because Toby could take care of himself. Never mind that the star-less night sky had descended over the Goblin Kingdom and most people were at home with their families. After all, there was no rapist to worry about any more. And Toby would not leave the Goblin King in a huff. Therefore there was nothing to worry about.

Except he hadn't changed. It was early December, with snow on the ground, and dark shadows littering the crevices and cracks of his Kingdom and suppose Toby had gone to the Labyrinth and been hurt? The Labyrinth would not knowingly hurt his bond mate, but even Jareth had to beware when he entered it these days. His long consumption of black magic had damaged the essentially neutral personality of the magic and tilted it towards wilful and malicious. Anything could happen.

He tried to reach out mentally and found himself stone-walled again. Toby had cut himself off so effectively that Jareth could not even follow the trail to the approximate vicinity of his bond mate.

Troy, his housekeeper, came back and sketched a jerky little curtsey before him. "No one knows nothing," she said, her clean brown apron crackling around her, "He ain't in the Castle, Your Majesty."

"You may go, Troy." Without thought, Jareth lifted his hand to fiddle nervously with the medallion around his neck, tugging at the chain lightly as he turned back to the scene out of the window in front of him. "Standing in a passageway is not going to help," he told himself.

Trees… lots of trees in the Goblin Kingdom… trees and stone. Many had asked the Goblin Kings over the years why they never brought progress to the Goblin Kingdom.

"It is a wild land, but surely it can be tamed?" they would say.

And naturally the Goblin King- or in a few cases, the Goblin Queen- would smile knowingly and shake their heads. "The people do not want it," they would say sagely.

And it was true. The goblins were simple creatures who appreciated the simple life. They did the things their fathers had done, apprenticing themselves out when they were old enough. They enjoyed the results of their hard work. They frowned on the offering of reducing their workload. Yes, they liked a drink and a laugh, but their work ethic was phenomenal and Jareth had yet to meet a people who collectively revered hard work as much as the goblins, or enjoyed it as much. It was not only the Labyrinth that was wild and independent; the people were as well. The few factories set up, had been placed only where labour had been insufficient or the work had been overmuch. And even these were falling into disrepair as the goblins slowly went back to their original way of life.

Electricity was not unknown. It was just neglected. People didn't want electric fans and microwaves. They ate the fruit or produce in season and went swimming when it was too hot…

Swimming!

"That idiot," Jareth groaned, changing into owl form and taking off. For where else would Toby be? Where else had his husband always gone when upset?

There!

He circled for a while and then landed lazily right next to the still figure still staring out over the water.

Toby never even turned. "It's a nice night," he commented, "But I really would like to be alone now."

The white owl twisted its head and hooted.

"Jareth, please, I just want to be alone. Is that too much to ask?"

The owl didn't even move.

Toby gave up. It was his bond mate; he knew Jareth in all his shapes and sizes. It was impossible not to, really. In spite of the separation. "I suppose you think I'm acting like an idiot, but I'm really not. I don't try to stick my nose in where you don't want it, Jareth, but where my children are concerned, I don't like being kept out of the loop. I guess that means I'll have to get used to getting hurt, won't it?"

"I never wanted to hurt you."

Toby turned sharply. Jareth was sitting cross-legged beside him, worried face turned towards him, mismatched eyes oddly humble. It was a strange look and Toby didn't like it. It made him feel like the world was turning backwards.

"Toby, listen to me. I do not mean to keep you out of the- what was your expression- loop?- that. But that is the way I work. I am sorry, my elf, but it didn't occur to me to tell you. I was preoccupied…"

"Yes, yes, I know you were dying," Toby said edgily, skipping pebbles over the pristine calm of the lake, "I can understand why you said nothing then. But now? Jareth, you should have told me later, when you were better and we spent all that time talking. You had every opportunity to tell me."

"There was no proper way to broach the subject."

"Don't give me that. I thought we were passed that little habit of mentioning things only when needed. Obviously I was wrong. That's all. No big deal. Not like I care." Toby knew he was being childish. But what else could he be? He couldn't force Jareth to talk. Short of prying his way into his thoughts- which Toby refused to do for love or money- there was nothing he could do. And Jareth wasn't even trying! "It's hopeless!"

A pebble went skimming across the surface of the lake, managing three skips before sinking. It wasn't Toby's.

"Stop throwing pebbles at my lake," the fire-blond said severely, "You're intruding."

"Your lake?"

"Yes. Mine. You never bothered with it until I adopted it, so I claim it as mine. You're trespassing."

Jareth plastered a look of mock repentance on his face. "My dear, I do apologize! Had I but heard! And here I thought I was King of this land."

"You are," Toby affirmed, "But this is my lake. Go away."

Jareth sobered up. "No. I'm not leaving."

"Well, why the fuck not?"

The Goblin King muttered something under his breath. Toby looked around in some surprise. If he hadn't known better, he would have said the Goblin King was admitting to something, albeit reluctantly. He asked him to repeat himself louder.

Jareth threw his head back and stared accusingly up at the moon before speaking again. "I can't rest until I know you're safe in my bed."

A blink of near-to-invisible lashes and then Toby burst out laughing. Jareth glared at him in some annoyance, but accepted it ruefully. Waiting for the fit of hilarity to calm down, he offered his cloak and smiled to find it thankfully accepted. Toby was shivering, in spite of being fairly warmly wrapped up. But snow and night could be horrendous weather for a mortal to be out in, and Toby was still mortal.

"Come home," the immortal pleaded, wrapping an arm around his husband's shoulders, "Come to bed."

"You're tired?" Toby asked, standing up.

"No more than usual. But I hate leaving Arradine alone in that Castle with her new bond mate. I don't trust her not to misbehave."

"Why not?"

"My elf, if I were her, I certainly would have by now!"


	22. Library Stacks

Author's Note: Here's something nice for this season. I couldn't resist; I really couldn't. After all, Christmas is all about salvation, isn't it? Or at least, for the Christians it is. And the rest of us just like the food and presents. Which, incidentally, are both things Jareth and Toby and their family could do with, don't you think?

-----------------------------------------------

Storming into the library the next morning brought Toby straight to Jareth's back. "What are we doing for Christmas?" he asked.

Jareth looked around in some surprise, his brows pulling together into a light frown before clearing. "Christmas? I'm afraid we don't celebrate that down here, my elf. Surely you know by now?"

A trifle, Toby decided, something he waved away with a flick of his capable hand. "Not this year. This year we're doing something for Christmas. Something nice! I miss Christmas. Can't we do something down here?"

The Goblin King put down his papers and sat down in the window seat. "Christmas?" he echoed dubiously, "I'm not sure I follow you, my elf."

"Let's throw an enormous Christmas down here for the family," Toby explained, "We could invite Mom, Dad, Sarah, Ben, the various kids, and Zaraith…"

"Why Zaraith?" Jareth interrupted.

Toby sent him a speaking look. "For Arradine, naturally," he grinned, "And the humans from the Ivory Tower. They have their own Christmas celebrations; did you know that? Well, those who celebrate Christmas, and then the others just like a party. And perhaps we can get the political necessities out of the way by inviting Armand and his retinue. Oh, and a few of your nobles too. I'd love to see them squirm when they're forced to endure a few Aboveground traditions!"

"Bloodthirsty little brat," Jareth commented lovingly, smiling at him from his seat in the window. Toby grinned so sheepishly back at him that he laughed, overjoyed to actually feel this weightless sense of happiness again. "Come here, my dear. I am about to show you exactly why I cannot stand not to touch you when we're together."

Toby went willingly enough and let himself be kissed into the next world. It had been ages and he could feel the overwhelming sense of giddy delight in the world. A soft sigh and he opened physically and mentally to his lover, shivering to know how far Jareth would let them go this time. He only hoped that he'd be able to reciprocate half of what his lover gave him.

'_You do_,' Jareth whispered back, '_Every chance you get you show me how much you care._'

'_Can't help it. Need you constantly. Never want you to stop. God, don't stop!_' That delightful, long-fingered hand was smoothing down his body, making unerringly for his…

"Oh, Good God!" The open door creaked and two people turned hurriedly away again.

Toby let out a yelp and leapt backwards, hands over his mouth, and Jareth snickered wickedly at the looks on his children's faces. Stretching out his long legs, he uncurled from the window seat and took his lover's hand soothingly. "Are you alright?" he asked, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Toby still had the most delightful little blush, but he nodded and leaned intimately enough against his husband. "Fine."

Jareth didn't let go, but turned his head to quirk an eyebrow at the two watching them with barely contained glee. "Was there something you wanted?" he asked in a bored voice, letting Arradine and Aidan have the full blast of his thinly veiled desire for them to leave.

Maddeningly enough, both children came in and shut the door behind them. "We have something to discuss with you," Arradine said sweetly, "Concerning this winter. We just spoke with Sarah and she asked us to come spend Christmas Aboveground. Aidan and I have never been Aboveground and neither has Ereditha, so we thought you might perhaps agree to let us go. For family's sake, of course."

"Of course," Jareth echoed. "Well, I am afraid you have caught your dad and I at a particularly bad moment and so…"

"We chose the moment you would be most likely to want to get rid of us," Aidan advised wickedly, "You know, no long childish speeches to try to persuade you otherwise; no long attempts to bargain and plead. Just say yes and we will leave."

Jareth and Toby shared a look. "They are your children," Toby said quellingly, "Don't look at me! It's in their nature to be devious."

"We need to discuss this," Jareth offered, "Now get out."

"No," both children chorused.

Toby suddenly gave an evil little grin as Jareth said something in his head. '_Why not,_' he replied back, '_it will teach them a little lesson._'

The Goblin King suddenly picked his bond mate up in his arms and walked to the raised platform where the stacks were. Levitating calmly over the railings, he disappeared between the shelves and then proceeded to drop Toby on the floor and kiss him senseless once more.

Aidan and Arradine stared in the general direction of the soft sounds of kissing and undone clothing and made the unanimous decision to flee.

Jareth stopped at the sound of a slamming door and peeped out, smirking as he turned back and nodded. "They've gone," he said smugly.

Toby laughed up at him and clapped a hand over his eyes. "I think we just traumatized them for life," he commented thickly, "Oh Lord! So, what do you think of their idea?"

The laughter stopped abruptly. "You seriously want to go Aboveground for Christmas?" Jareth asked.

Toby lowered his hand and looked up in surprise. "Well, yeah. I haven't been back home since I was sixteen. I'm thirty-five now, Jareth, and a visit back might be nice."

"You want to go back…"

"Not to leave! I want you to come with me. You've never experience Christmas, have you? Well, it can be pretty interesting. Mom would kill herself making all this food and the entire house would be full of the smell of roasting turkey and stuff, and strewn all over with torn wrapping paper and presents. It's complete and utter chaos! But it's fun. The whole family is there, yelling and screaming and fighting and drinking."

Jareth had gone pale and a little quiet. He liked enormous gatherings, but on his terms and under his roof. He wasn't very good at being a guest because he kept wanting to run things. And to go Aboveground… "You want me to meet the rest of your family, don't you?"

Toby gave up pretending. "Yes, I do, actually. I want to show you off."

"You realize that if you take me Aboveground, people are going to know that you're in a homosexual relationship? And just how will we explain the birth of our three children?"

"Arradine and Ereditha are yours and I adopted them when we got together," Toby said promptly, "Aidan can be mine from a previous relationship."

"Really. Since when do you get Aidan?" Jareth snarked in mock frustration, "I went through the hellish birth with him. I don't see why you get to be his father."

"Are you serious? Then we'll have to figure out how to explain why your son has my colouring and my two children have yours," Toby remarked acidly, "Unless you think we should go for the truth? I can just see my Aunt Heather's face- 'I'm serious, Aunt Heather! I was the size of a beach ball for the last five months of pregnancy and then I spent sixteen hours in labour, but everything was worth it when I breastfed my first-born'! Oh, yeah, she'd love that."

Jareth burst out laughing and petted Toby in apology. "I'm sorry, my elf. I didn't mean to tease you. Very well, then, consider Aidan my Christmas present."

Toby debated his next words in his mind, then plunged on recklessly- "Only Aidan? Other wives get diamonds!"

"You, my dear, are not a wife."

"I could be," Toby murmured suggestively, peeping up from under his lashes, "After all, I play the girl in this relationship. More so than many other girls, actually! I'm far more submissive to you than many married women are. I think I deserve a diamond."

"Of course! And where will it go?" Jareth purred, "Here?" He touched an earlobe but Toby only smiled enigmatically.

"On one of these perhaps?"

He fingered both sensitive nipples through Toby's shirt and felt the thrill of triumph when Toby arched.

"Or maybe…"

His hands moved lower and gently cupped his lover's growing erection. "There are those who do like to be pierced just…" he slid his hand into the uncomfortably tight breeches "… there."

"Actually," Toby whispered, "I was thinking… here." He moved Jareth's hand from his crotch to his neck, pressing the fingers to circle his throat so that he could feel the slight pressure on his thrumming pulse-point. "Collared, cuffed, and laid out for your pleasure."

Mismatched eyes darkened and began to glow as the Goblin King leaned down, slowly dropping the merest brush of a kiss onto Toby's lips before pulling away. The mortal whimpered and reached higher to make the contact last longer. But Jareth was always just that hairsbreadth away, moving further away when Toby tried to force the issue. The hand on his neck was pushing him down.

"Beg me."

"Please…"

"Please, what?"

Toby frowned slightly. "Master?" he tried tentatively.

That thin mouth moved further away. "I am not your Master," Jareth growled, "Never call me that again."

Oh right- Archer! Toby had forgotten for a while. He licked his dry lips and felt the nerve-endings tingle with the inrush of blood. He could feel his mouth, feel the air that blew gently over it and felt how it shaped itself for Jareth's kiss. He didn't think he had ever gotten this hard over being kissed before.

Jareth decided to take pity on him because he pushed aside the unpleasant memories and moved a little closer. "Tell me what you want," he instructed quietly.

"Please kiss me."

The Goblin King obliged. But that was all he obliged with and Toby wriggled helplessly, his hands lying uselessly beside his head because he knew these games and they would stop instantly if he tried to add another dimension to them. Jareth never permitted him to touch himself without permission. It was ironic, but the Goblin King only explained it away with- "This is mine. No one but myself is allowed to touch. That must include you too."

So Toby was stumped. For the most part Jareth never cared whether he masturbated or touched a spot his lover had missed; the immortal had quite a bit of the voyeur in him to like that sort of thing. But when the games began… God help him, but he'd be left hard and aching for hours with his hands chained if he tried it. The very thought of the punishment fired him even more.

Jareth felt that abandoned shudder and recognized it thrillingly for what it was. He concentrated on Toby's tongue, seducing it out into the open air and then sucking on just the tip. '_Is this all you want?_' he asked mentally.

'_More! Make love to me, please!_' Toby's brain was beginning to come unhinged, just like it always did. It felt so dangerous to place all he was into another's hands, but he trusted Jareth implicitly not to hurt him. Never mind what he believed, he was craving something that was infinitely more than just a sweet make-out session.

"Say it," Jareth urged aloud, "Give me instructions. Where do you want me to touch you? Do I use my hands or my mouth? Am I allowed to use my tongue?"

With a start Toby recognized a new emotion in this game- Jareth was giving up control! He was in charge! He stared upward, pondering this suddenly new turn of affairs.

Goblin King smiled a little down at him, enjoying that startled look on Toby's face- "Do as I say and I will be your slave."

Toby felt his breath hitch. So this was where they were! Finally! The ultimate end! Was this still what he wanted? "My neck," he sighed, "Use your mouth and your tongue."

Jareth complied meekly, kissing and licking over the salty skin and feeling the blood rush straight down to his groin.

"Bite."

Sharp teeth were instantly fastened over his jugular, biting down hard enough to leave a severe bruise and vicious enough to actually draw a few drops of blood. Toby felt his eyes water with the pain but it was like nothing he had ever felt before. He twisted beneath it and cried out helplessly, control over himself breaking. Now neither of them was in control. He hastily magicked off their clothes and pulled Jareth's head down to his chest. "Suck," he begged, "Please! Just… suck."

The greedy mouth suckled like a child- like one of their own children. Only their children hadn't had cruel teeth that bit down every so often and sent another crash of electricity bursting through his system. He was aware that he was mewling, was aware that for some peculiar reason he was crying out for his husband to love him.

Pushing Jareth back up and lifting his own legs- "Enter me." Desperate, hoarse and pleading- "Take me!"

"Toby, you haven't been prepared…"

"Screw that! I need you and you will obey me- now!"

The long, scraping pain like sandpaper on a bullet wound ran from his protesting sphincter muscles all the way up his back to crush up against the base of his skull. He had never been more aware of the burning heat of his body, or of Jareth's, or the cold of the air and the tile. The smell of old books and learning permeated the air and now the sharp tang of sex in this timeless place. Trying to bite back a scream as Jareth tried to take him gently. Too gently.

"Tear me," Toby gasped, "I want blood. I want scars. I want to remember."

"You don't have to," Jareth whispered to him, "I'll keep reminding you. Don't hurt, Toby, please. I can't bear it."

"I love you. Please hurt me."

"No."

"You must. You promised."

"Don't ask for that…"

"Tear me or I will cut myself to draw the blood," Toby threatened. "I want to see my blood on your body. I want- I want… Gods, yes! Yes! Ahh, please, my love, harder!"

There was blood. There would be a scar, though Jareth would probably never be able to tell it from any of the other scars that he felt beneath his fingers when he inserted them. It was the first time that he had ever taken his consort without the careful oiling that he had sworn never to neglect with any of his male partners.

The heat and tight flesh rasped dryly over him and it almost hurt him too much to continue. But his body craved more and he thrust in again and again, trying not to like giving this pain, trying not to be turned on by the tears on his lover's face and the blood that acted as a late lubricant. But it was hopeless and when he felt the pleasure increase for his lover at this mishandling, he gave up trying and simply enjoyed it, working them both to fever pitch and then beyond.

Toby hadn't quite found release with him, which was only to be expected with the level of pain he had experienced. Jareth pulled away and shifted downwards, offering his mouth to be used. The first thrust was so brutal it almost made him gag, but Toby seemed too fargone to care. Shaking fingers running through his hair as Toby arched beneath him, right on the cusp of orgasm.

'_Beautiful,_' Jareth whispered, '_so sweet._'

That did it. Release rushed through the little figure so hard he cried out soundlessly, shivering on the cold tile as he clutched hard at his lover's hard, pressing up hard enough to get as much of himself as was humanly possibly down his lover's throat. The tight heat drew him on until he begged for mercy. Then, and only then, did Jareth let him go.

They lay there for a while, simply luxuriating in the post-coital glow that coated everything around there.

"So," Toby eventually panted, "Want to come meet my family?"

Jareth nodded and worked his jaw for a minute. "Love to," he rasped.


	23. Let It Snow

"So we are going?" Aidan demanded.

Toby looked searchingly at Jareth, and receiving no word of dissent he nodded, just as excited as his children. The Aboveground! "Yup! We're going Aboveground!"

A communal cry of delight and much carefully displayed exuberance followed. Jareth simply watched. It was no great pleasure for him, happy though he liked his family to be. He knew the Aboveground; he went there often enough and watched it even more, spreading dreams and fantasies into the mortals' world to keep his own in balanced existence. He only hoped it would not disappoint his lover or his children.

A tug on his sleeve had him picking up his youngest to sit in his lap. Ereditha was really too big for that any more, but he wilfully refused to acknowledge it. "Yes, little one?"

"Why are we going Aboveground?" Ereditha questioned, somewhat suspicious.

"We're going to visit your dad's family for Christmas. You remember Christmas?"

"Yes. That winter festival when all the children get presents and Sarah makes a- a … what was it?"

"A turkey," Jareth supplied helpfully, "Something like that. It's actually a religious festival. But most people just like to have a party and have some fun."

"Like down here," she said matter-of-factly.

Jareth raised an eyebrow. His nine-year-old was being philosophical? Well, wasn't that a surprise. "Yes. And your grandparents want to see you."

The solemn little face changed instantly. "Fudge," Ereditha exclaimed happily, "Grandma will make me fudge!"

"Oh Red! Is that all you think about? We're going Aboveground," Aidan pointed out, "There are enormous buildings there, and rich people who drive beautiful cars and television and radio and… just heaps of things. Why only fudge?"

She looked almost hurt by the accusation. "Well, we live in a Castle," Ereditha pointed out, "Can't be bigger than that! And we are rich. And I do not like cars; my pony can do anything a car can do and it's prettier. We don't need television because we read so much and- and who needs radio." She thought for a moment. "What is radio?"

Toby bit his lip to keep from smiling and looked to Jareth, who looked vastly amused at this spirited defence of the Underground as equal to- if not better than- the Aboveground. "A radio is a kind of machine, Red. It plays music," the mortal supplied helpfully, "Though I suppose everything's changed and stereos are out of fashion. A disc-man was already passé when I was there and MP3s were what everyone used. Will radios have survived?"

Jareth shrugged and stood up, gently pushing Ereditha off his lap in the process. "Radios have survived. But there are other versions now. Most people use micro-comps."

"Micro-comps?" Toby was certain he'd heard that term before but since he had no actual memory of what it was… it was rather sobering to think that he was now a stranger to his own world.

Jareth seemed to realize that, because he explained very patiently- "A micro-comp, if I am not mistaken, is a smaller, compact version of a computer that now carries the software to play music or movies as one might wish. I believe they have replaced everything remotely connected to communication and entertainment. People write emails on them, or make phone calls. I'm not quite sure how widespread they are, but I've had to break a few when trying to get the Wished-aways down here in one piece."

"Oh." Toby turned that over in his mind. Then he perked up. "Never mind. Harvey will rescue me from any embarrassing lack of knowledge. So when do we leave?"

Jareth looked to the door. "I thought we would accompany Sarah back. She seemed to expect it, when I told her. She said something about your mother keeping your room ready for when you go back home."

"Mom is just way too sentimental," Toby complained, secretly quite pleased. It would be very cringe-worthy, probably, but it was worth looking forward to.

He said as much to Sarah a few hours later, challenging her to a sedate snowman-making contest. They were currently both neck and neck, patting down the excess snow and trying to give some semblance of shape to the poor things. "I had a single bed, anyway," he pointed out, "Jareth and I both won't fit in that."

"Maybe she'll put you in the spare room," Sarah suggested, "I'd keep you with me, but I really won't have the place. Ben's parents and aunt are coming down too and my spare rooms are full. Aidan and Arradine will have to share with the twins as it is. Dad and Karen have an empty house this year."

"Don't be silly, Sarah. Do you really think that Mom will let me get away with not staying there even if they have a football team camped in the house? She'll throw a fit if I even stayed with you!"

"That's right. You always were her baby," Sarah teased, "She'll pamper you, just you wait." She shrieked and ducked as Toby tried to pelt her with snowballs in revenge. "All right, all right already! I give up!" The avalanche stopped raining down on her.

Sitting up and laughing at the ruins of her snowman and his, laughing at her little brother's look of annoyed fluster, laughing even at the wild white bird with the grey flecks in its wings that whistled at her enquiringly from the branches of the trees. And then finally Sarah calmed down, red-faced and bright-eyed with the cold and the enjoyment.

Toby looked her over and broke into a smile himself. He might only have been thirty-five, but Sarah was forty-nine. She was aging before his very eyes and yet even that looked good on her. Covered in snow with a red woollen cap pulled down over her ears and her gloved hands brushing snowy powder from her face, she looked good. "She will not pamper me," he ended, pretending to sulk.

"Aw! Mommy's little pet," Sarah teased, "Are you hungry, baby? Are you warm and dry? Did you sleep well? Do you want a bath? Shall I burp you?"

Toby flung another handful of snow at her. "Shut up! Another word and I'll suspend you over the Bog until you beg for mercy."

Sarah pulled a face and caught her breath. It was sometimes hard for her to believe that her little brother really did live in the Underground, or that he was the consort and- much though it made her wrinkle her nose- the lover of the Goblin King, or even that he had three beautiful biological children with said Goblin King and was practised in the art of magic. Having seen Toby transform into a wolf in front of her on suspicion of an attack by a Labyrinthian creature, she'd been forced to concede his animus.

"You know, you'll have to be very careful Aboveground," she offered, "You guys use a lot of magic down here. Even Ereditha speaks of magic or crystals like it's nothing special. It is, you know, in the States."

"I don't really use that much magic, Sarah. Usually only when I need to get from one place to another very fast or I need something instantly to hand; the rest of the time I act like any mortal."

Sarah looked amused. "No, you don't. You treat magic like it's part and parcel of who you are. Which is great. But no mortal can see that without thinking you're crazy. You have to be careful. And no turning into a wolf at a moment's notice!"

Toby looked guilty. "Yes, mother," he sighed, "At least I don't just lob a crystal at them, okay? I fight naturally. Jareth boosts his strength with magic when he needs to or just tosses a crystal at whatever it is."

Sarah giggled. "All well and good. But people are going to want to know why they're facing off against this skinny guy in a dark alleyway and suddenly there's a wolf snarling in front of them."

"Yeah, but…"

"No buts," Sarah said sternly, shaking a gloved finger at Toby, "No going wolf!"

"All right, all right! See if I try to save you from a nasty little Labyrinth surprise next time." Toby looked positively evil as he magicked up a bar of chocolate for the both of them. "The Labyrinth doesn't like you, you know. It respects you, but it doesn't like you. You beat it, and you beat Jareth. I would advise you to stay close to the Castle or in the Goblin City itself. It's, uh, in a bit of bad temper these days."

"I heard," Sarah remarked, "Jareth's been using black magic. Was that why he cut himself off from people? Is like a drug addiction or something? Because that would explain the fear."

Toby shifted uncomfortably and tried to think of how best to phrase it. "He wasn't addicted to black magic," he said slowly, "It's physically impossible to be addicted to black magic. People use it because they choose to. Jareth chose to use it for… quite a while. That wasn't the reason for the fear, no."

Green eyes looked up and narrowed at him. With her shortsightedness, Sarah's glares tended to be even more piercing. "What aren't you telling me?"

Truth. "Jareth had some… issues, from his childhood. Watching Aidan grow up made him fear that Dan would go through the same thing. The seven years as Archer's prisoner didn't help matters much; they made them worse, in fact. So he pulled away from everyone. We're still sorting them out."

"And would this be that big, dark secret that no one would tell you about earlier?"

"Yeah. Silly sods! If they'd told me, I could have done something earlier. It's been hard going."

"Not that you regret it," Sarah pointed out, smiling at him, "I happened to walk into you two kissing at the breakfast table so don't give me that baloney."

Toby grinned up unashamedly, the phantom memory of that burning kiss dusting across his mouth again. "Don't start with me. I once saw you and Ben at it on the kitchen table. And you only saw me kiss!"

"Oh come on! It's not like Ben and I were having sex," Sarah pouted, "We were just making out. No big deal, really. And you ruined the mood by cracking up laughing."

"Like you never laughed at me and Elaine?" Toby countered.

The name made them both stop and think for a minute.

"Sarah, Mom's become rather good friends with Elaine, hasn't she?" Toby asked delicately, "Will she be there for Christmas? Because if so…"

Sarah scratched her head under her woollen hat and considered the possibilities. "She might," she ceded, "But she's married now, and you know she broke up with you. Elaine's hardly going to be all over you now, is she? You're not that cute. I don't see that she has anything to do with it."

"Yeah, but… introducing Jareth to her?" Toby was undecided. He couldn't even picture that happening! "It will be too weird. Elaine and Jareth together in the same room- it makes me shudder."

"What you mean is, she'll know you're with a guy. Almost twenty years, little brother, and you're still singing the same tune?"

Sarah stood up and made for the Castle, tired and wet. It was a little irritating. They all knew damned well what Jareth and Toby got up to- Arradine, Aidan and Ereditha were evidence enough- why did he feel the need to defend his choices all the time? It wasn't as if it even mattered any more. He was happy; why was that wrong?

"Sarah!" Toby jogged after her and joined her at the door to the Castle, taking her arm and tugging her to the small door at the side that led down to the kitchens. "Come have some coffee with me. Look, I'm not trying to make trouble, really. But if you had been dating a girl when you were fifteen and you suddenly had to introduce her to Ben as your ex-girlfriend, would you like it?"

Sarah groaned and slapped her forehead. "Toby, get it through your thick head that it doesn't matter! What Elaine thinks does not matter! The most you'll see her for is a few hours and then you'll come back here to live with the person you love in the place that you love. Does it matter?"

"Not really, I suppose. But you've seen Jareth. I'm just afraid they'll insult him. It's not me. My kids grew up thinking it perfectly normal to have two birth fathers and stuff, but they'll go Aboveground and people might give them crap because of it."

"And what do you propose to do?"

"Have Christmas down here?" Toby pleaded, "Jareth will agree if you ask."

"I am not asking your husband if we can use his Castle for a mad Christmas holiday. And all the rest of the family is Aboveground in the States. We can't just take off! Ben's parents can't come down here; they'll have a heart attack with one look at this place."

"Okay, okay. But if something goes wrong, I'll hold you personally responsible."

He was still grumbling when Jareth kindly told him to shut up when they apparated down to his parents' house in his quiet little town.


	24. Home for the Holidays

"Bloody hell," Toby gasped, "You've changed the sofas. Thank God! I hated those terrible chintz ones."

Karen looked miffed but allowed it to pass. Her grandchildren were here; her son was here; Christmas was going to be great. And she only had two more weeks to go! Which would be a long two weeks if Harold continued to glare at Jareth like that. "Jareth, dear, it was nice of you to come too."

"It was nice of you to invite me," Jareth said easily, looking around in some interest. He hadn't experienced an Aboveground Christmas for some time, and never except in the dirt-poor artist circles he'd revolved in. A very large and very furry pine tree stood in the sitting room. That, at least, had escaped the red and gold decorations.

"Hi, Ereditha," Karen cooed, bending to give her small granddaughter a big hug, "How are you?"

"Fine! Can we make fudge?"

"Sure. I thought we could do that tomorrow morning. Come in, all of you, and sit down. Would you like something to eat… drink?"

Toby gave his mother a peck on the cheek and threw himself in an armchair, bouncing experimentally a few times with the most serious expression on his face. "Hmmm… not bad! Oh, no thanks, mom. I think we're all good."

It was all a little awkward and all a little exciting, and by the time they had talked for ages and then Toby managed to think of an even more pressing matter than when to decorate the tree. "Jareth, we can't walk around like this!"

The Goblin King nodded. "Glamors," he explained succinctly, "Whenever you're ready."

"Glamors?" Karen echoed, "What's that?"

"It's a bit like a disguise," Aidan explained, "Only magical. Basically, they will cloak their real appearance in a layer of visual energy that acts to specific measurements."

Karen and Harold blinked. "So people will see Jareth and Toby differently?" Harold translated.

Toby sniggered. "What Aidan's trying to say is that Jareth will look mortal and I'll look my real age, or somewhere close enough."

"That makes more sense," Harold sighed, "How will you do it?"

Jareth stood up. "I'll do it. Toby isn't very well versed in this. Come here, my elf. All right; close your eyes and hold still." He flicked up a crystal and began to fill it with excess energy, careful not to break it.

Everyone watched breathlessly.

Jareth smirked a little at his lover's placid face, quite surprised that Toby was obeying so meekly. But then that little stunt in the library had said a lot more than he would have guessed. He let go of the crystal and let it weave its way over the smaller male, aging him before their eyes. Twenty-one turned to twenty-five, turned to thirty-two and then thirty-five. Jareth took a step back and surveyed his handiwork.

Toby opened his eyes and blinked a little. "Crap, I think I need glasses," he groaned, trying to read the cards on the mantelpiece. "No, I don't. How do I look?"

His kids were staring at him with slight frowns.

"What? I don't look that bad, do I?" No answer. "Jareth?"

The Goblin King was staring. "You actually look not very different," he admitted.

Toby brightened. "Really?"

Jareth nodded. And then proceeded to get himself done. It didn't take very long but he didn't like the amounts of precious energy he was using for this. He only hoped he wouldn't be called on to use magic again for the rest of the day, because then he'd be sucked dry for a week. So long as there was always a little magic left to regenerate every day, he would be happy. The crystal vanished, it's work done, and he dusted himself off with a careless hand.

Toby stared.

Arradine and Aidan stared.

Harold and Karen stared.

Ereditha squealed in delight and bounced on the couch.

Jareth looked from his in-laws to his lover with a raised eyebrow. "Is there something wrong?" he asked lightly.

"Your hair…" Toby sounded as if the words were strangling him. "And those jeans!"

"It's hardly such a surprise," Jareth argued, turning so Toby could get a proper look. "I cut my hair and darkened it a little, and I'm in mortal clothes. Why is this such a shock?"

Karen coughed as a thought suddenly occurred to her. "No wonder Toby always liked your legs," she commented, smiling mischievously at her son's mate.

Jareth smirked back and preened just a little. This attention was not something he was necessarily averse to. "That good?" he asked Ereditha.

"I don't like the jacket," she told him, "You should wear something else."

"Like what, little one?"

She bit her lip in thought and sent a selective eye over his apparel. "Longer," Ereditha said finally, "In black."

Jareth obediently changed his jacket to a long black one. It didn't really matter. He'd be taking it off in a minute. One didn't wear jackets indoors, at least not in the Aboveground. He didn't even need it, anyway. Never mind what he looked like, he didn't feel the cold like mortals did. He could walk around in the snow in the nude and be completely comfortable. Well, apart from the fact that he never actually was in the habit of walking around in public without any clothes on. In private, he couldn't give a hoot, but in public…

"Jareth? You okay? You got a little lost in thought, there, love." Toby snapped his fingers under Jareth's slender nose, effectively bringing him back to reality.

Mismatched eyes refocused and Jareth offered a weak smile. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"Can I speak to you upstairs, please. In private."

Arradine sniggered and hid it very well behind her hand. Karen stood up and put a pleasantly neutral expression on her face as she held out her hand to her grandson. "Come on, Aidan. You need to help me get something out of the shed. Your grandfather hurt his back the other day and I don't trust him not to break it."

"As you wish," Aidan agreed, getting to his feet and following her out with a backwards glance of shared knowing with his sister.

Harold ignored them all except to say, "Toby, you're staying in your old room."

Toby looked a little puzzled, but shrugged and took Jareth upstairs. Nothing much had changed, really, in the house. The carpets were new and the Christmas stuff was tasteful and less tacky. He had loved the tacky stuff, but then he'd been seven at the time. Ivywound around the banisters and he silently made a note to tell his mother that it looked good. She liked hearing that sort of thing.

"Was there something in particular?" Jareth asked from behind him.

"Yes. I thought we needed to talk about how to make sure that Arradine doesn't actually feel too uncomfortable over the next three weeks. With that bond she's going to be drawn back to the Underground. It won't be pretty after about a week of that."

"No, it won't. I intend to take her back to the Underground in a few days so she may meet with Zaraith for a few hours. It should work. Zaraith has already agreed."

"Has he now?"

Jareth pricked up his ears. He knew that tone of voice and it was far too serious. But it told him nothing. He stayed quiet while he went down the hall and Toby opened the door of his old room and led the way inside.

"Wow." The mortal looked around his previous place of habitat with wide eyes. Everything was the same as it always was. A print of Dahli's 'Swans Reflecting Elephants' was still on the wall. The mirror still hung just opposite his bed. A handful of photographs were stuck up collage-style on a corkboard that had been over his desk. But the desk had moved; the bed was a double bed now and took up more room. The desk was shoved under the window. "It feels so small!"

Jareth sat down on the bed and looked interestedly at the mirror. "What was that for?" he teased, pointing to it. "You didn't seem the kind overly concerned with his appearance."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny," Toby griped, "As a matter of fact I have no idea why that mirror is there. Elaine… put it up and I just sort of left it there." He saw the flash of jealously. "Jareth, I have had a girlfriend before you. Get over it."

"I had no idea that this girlfriend attempted to rearrange your room," Jareth said casually. He went backwards on the bed and folded his hands behind his head. "Rather pushy of her."

"Jealous, are you?" Toby sniggered, crawling up next to him. The sharp-featured face remained in complete repose. He let his finger trace one dark brow and then the other. "I can't possibly think why."

"I am not jealous."

Toby bent down to nibble on the curve of his ear. "I don't believe you," he whispered, blowing gently.

Jareth pinned him with a growl at his laughing face. "I think you have forgotten how to show respect," he snapped, "Believe me, Toby. If I say I am not jealous, then I am not jealous."

"Okay! I got it! Can you let go now? You're hurting me."

"Really." There was an oddly dark look in those dual-coloured eyes and Toby felt an unaccustomed worry for just a second. The brown eye was partially obscured by an errant flick ofblond hair. "Would you like me to let go?"

What kind of question was that? "Well, I'd like you to loosen your grip, yes."

The grip loosened and Jareth sat up, that unreadable expression still on his face. It wasn't unfamiliar, but Toby hadn't seen it for so long that he was not comfortable in its presence. The world was beginning to take on an unreal feel to it. And he knew that feeling too, but so vaguely it threw him off balance.

"Jareth, what's wrong now?"

"Nothing." The Goblin King sounded genuine. "But I think this relationship is a little unbalanced, don't you?"

"I think you've got an idea and you're not telling me what it is."

"It all depends, my elf," Jareth murmured, stroking Toby's knee with long white fingers, "On how you behave in the next three weeks."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Toby declared, wriggling a little as the white fingers tickled him.

Jareth would only smirk knowingly and say nothing. He was the only one of them who didn't seem too surprised to hear a knock at the door. "Come in, Arradine."

She entered, looking a little guilty over disturbing them. "Um, Grandma wanted to know if you could go to the store for her. She needs a few things."

"Very well." Jareth stood up and helped Toby off the bed. "Does she have a list or are we supposed to guess?"

"It is downstairs."

Arradine and Toby watched him swan out of the room. The girl patted her father sympathetically on the shoulder. "Have fun," she said.


	25. The Dairy Section

Author's Note: Merry Christmas if I don't get a chance to post the most important chapter up by Christmas Day. Happy New Year in case my computer goes bust again. And thank you to allmy fantastically kind reviewers who've taken the trouble to sit through four series' worth of this. I'm so honoured by all of your kind words and regards and I only hope this can end in a way that is satisfactory and fitting.

Author's Note 2: Only about three more chapters at most to go! And then entire fic will end!

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The walk to the nearest supermarket was nice, if a little silent. Jareth seemed perfectly content to walk next to his husband and look around him. Toby let him be for the most part, only interrupting his silence to point anything of interest out to him.

As for Toby, he was too nervous about this very public appearance back to the scene of his old life and spent far too much time wondering whether people recognized him. So far he had seen five people he knew and all of them had walked right passed him. It was very disconcerting. He had to admit that it had its advantages, however; it gave him a bit more time to work out how he would introduce his… husband, to his… old friends.

"In here?"

He looked up quickly. "Yeah. I'll get one of those basket thingies and we're there." He looked at the list his mom had pushed into his hand and reconsidered. "On second thoughts, let's get one each. Our arms will break if one of us tries to carry all of this at once."

That settled, they set off.

Jareth suppressed a smirk as Toby bit at his lip trying to read his mother's writing. The little fire-blond was so distracted, he crowed, did Toby really think that he couldn't read those thoughts. They didn't often use the connection, it was true, but it was there and neither of them kept that figurative door closed any more. And Toby never had learned to keep his thoughts to himself. They spilled over- or leaked- into Jareth's mind as regular as clockwork.

He knew exactly what Toby was most worried about.

But he wouldn't talk about it now. That was for the mortal to figure out all on his own. Jareth was too secure in his attraction to pay much attention to Toby's apprehension. Whether or not Toby introduced him as a friend or a lover, the fact was that he had made his bond mates cream in sheer bliss on more than one occasion and was well able to do so again.

"I think," the transformed Goblin King suggested, "That that is milk."

Toby squinted and tilted the paper. "You're right! Bloody hell, that 'i' looked like a 'q'. I thought it was a short-form I was supposed to remember. It's just… down here?" He stared in some confusion at a packet of instant gravy mix. "No, it's not anymore. Okay, this sucks! I'm lost!"

Jareth chuckled, but stood back and let his bond mate storm out of the aisle and look up at the signs. "It's been eighteen years, my elf. Did you imagine they would stay the same?"

"Well, no. But the flour used to be there! I don't like change!"

Toby didn't even realize he was pouting. But Jareth did. And he flicked that succulent lower lip with his finger before taking his lover by the arm and leading him clear to the left of the store. "Let's start here, shall we? We'll take a look at everything they have and if we need it, we get it. All right?"

"Why are you so logical?" Toby accused.

"Being four hundred and seventy can do that for you," Jareth murmured softly. An elderly woman glanced at him as she walked passed and then did a suspicious double take. Jareth smiled at her unabashedly and raised an enquiring eyebrow. She hurried to whatever it was she was looking for.

Toby sighed. The Goblin King was having far too much fun with this. "Stop playing mortal and let's get on with it."

"A little ill-tempered, hmmm?"

"No, I just think we should hurry."

"None of this is that important, my elf."

"Would you please not call me that in public?!"

"You would prefer me to act differently in your public than I do in my own?"

"Yes! These people don't… they wouldn't … look, they won't understand, okay? So just… don't be all… weird with me. And no pet names!"

Jareth supposed he should be insulted. But it was all too amusing. He hadn't seen Toby this mixed-up since those first few months as bond mates; the malicious side of him was enjoying this far too much. "As you wish."

The smaller male looked around with narrowed blue eyes as he turned the corner to get to the milk. There were too many people around to say anything, but those words were sadly flat. The raw silk voice was a light, pleasant drawl, but the words- well, the words were lacking in something. It itched at his already overcrowded mind.

"Grab that bottle there, will you? Two of them. Yes, the ones with the cow on them, next to the packets with the dead pigs. God knows why they think dead pigs are appetizing, but I suppose if your people can eat those weird roasts with the feathers still on them, then dead pig isn't too bad."

"My people are unusual," Jareth allowed, the barest hint of a laugh threatening to break through.

"Stop laughing at me!"

"A singularly impossible request."

"Why? What's so amusing about this? We can't talk about THEM in front of these people. They wouldn't understand!"

A young couple gave them disapproving looks as Toby hissed the last remark to his husband. They left with icy swiftness, wheeling their pram away with a last scathing look backwards.

Jareth let them move beyond ear shot and then leaned in close to Toby's side. "Well done, Toby. Did you not know that acting a part draws more attention? Were you to stop this incessant need to correct me at every turn and twist, these people would notice nothing." He brushed passed, a cool nod at his bond mate's glower.

Toby watched the slender back move down the cold aisle. To his ultimate chagrin, Jareth seemed completely at home in the mortal world! He paid no heed right or left, but went about his business with a quiet, if somewhat impatiently regal, air. Even with the soft, short hair and the craggy older look, Jareth looked like a king. Dressed in faded jeans and a blue sweater, he looked as if he could step into a formal occasion and carry it off simply with the force of his personality.

And that wasn't fair! Toby was the mortal! Jareth wasn't. Toby should be the one completely comfortable in this world, not Jareth. Toby should know where things were, and how they worked. He shouldn't be confused and lost and generally inescapably unsure of how to act IN HIS OWN WORLD. Or that was what he told himself.

Jareth looked around at the melancholy thoughts, his sympathy aroused. Once again, it had been easy to forget that Toby was still, in so many ways, a child- still uncertain, still unsure, still finding himself. Jareth had been King for so long that public reaction did not bother him. Hell, two hundred years as the most notorious synonym for willing incest and cruel insanity was guaranteed to immunize him. Besides, his nature was a very confident one, very secure in himself and in his ability to manipulate his way out of any difficulty. He was over four and a half centuries old; Toby was only a sheltered thirty-five years.

He dropped the basket where he stood and went to his husband, all other concerns tuned out over this all-important being. "Does it worry you so much?" he asked softly, not touching because he knew Toby would flinch away.

"It doesn't worry me…"

"That is half-hearted at best and an outright lie at worst, Toby. I once told you that I would never put limits on our relationship. It is only what you make of it. We can be just friends to those who don't know. I do not care."

"You don't?"

A brisk shrug under the black jacket and Jareth smiled down at him in friendly fashion. "The truth is the truth. We simply won't break the crystal for them."

He was rewarded with a rueful smile. "So… friends?"

"Friends. I am an orphan with no family and so you take pity on me for these Christmas holidays."

Toby cocked his head like an inquisitive sparrow, intrigued by this seemingly simple plan spun by Jareth's quick mind. "What about the kids?"

"My wife died five months ago, leaving me alone to rear my two children. Her only sister is in Australia and I cannot afford to fly all three of us down there. Your son Aidan is good friends with my two girls, however, so spending this difficult occasion with friends is calculated to help them cope with the misery of the first Christmas without their mother." He tried to think of something else. "My wife's name was Gertrude."

Toby made a face. "Why Gertrude?"

"Because I don't like my wife," Jareth explained, composedly, "And I knew a Gertrude once… a more disagreeable woman I have yet to meet."

Toby might have laughed at this if a hand hadn't tapped him on the shoulder. His wolf instincts went into overdrive and he spun with a snarl. The woman behind him leapt back with a small shriek, her hand snapping back to her neck.

The sense of danger passed away with just one look at those terrified cat's eyes. Long lashes and grey-green irises… a pretty face with blond hair stylishly pulled back in a sleek chignon.

"Elaine? Hey!"

"T-Toby? Toby Williams?"

"Yeah. Elaine Harris, right? Of course! I'm so sorry, I didn't realize there was someone behind me and… er, how are you? Are you okay?"

She straightened up and settled her business suit with a self-conscious giggle. "Well, I'm fine now, so long as you don't suddenly grow fangs or something. What happened?"

"I was startled," Toby apologized.

"No, I mean what happened eighteen years ago? You were supposed to meet me the next day at lunch to help me with that science project and you never showed. I had to do it all myself, you selfish prick." She grinned at him mischievously, enjoying the look of surprised uncertainty on his face.

"I- I…"

"Oh, come off it! You ran away. Karen told me. She never said why, but she said you were happy. That's good. Are you still in Italy?"

"Italy?" Toby's mind was a complete blank.

Which is when Jareth decided to insert himself. His lover really was no good with the imaginative white lies. "No, he's not actually. He works in London now. Sorry to interrupt, Toby, but I'll just take that list off you. You and- Elaine, was it?- can talk in peace."

Blue eyes looked frantically at him and Jareth was not going to give him that satisfaction. He simply held his hand out for the list. Toby handed it over in a daze.

Elaine was very intrigued. "I'm sorry, but you have the advantage of me," she said, charming him with her best business-like manner. Being a smarmy lawyer came in handy sometimes. "I don't think I know you."

Toby snapped out of his daze. "Oh! Elaine, this is Jareth, a friend of mine. Jareth, this is Elaine, an old friend of mine."

"Don't use the 'o' word, darling, I swear I break out whenever someone calls me an old something-or-other."

Jareth grinned devilishly and shook hands. For all that she was his elf's ex-girlfriend he rather liked her. Her hand was cool and dry, her handshake firm and confident. The look in her eyes said that she played the role of the little woman but didn't get pushed around too easily. "Toby's told me so much about you." He simply couldn't resist.

Two straight blond brows rose in a synchronised show of astonishment on the highly domed forehead. "Really," Elaine exclaimed, "I can't think why! We parted on… not so friendly terms. I'm surprised Toby hasn't spit in my face."

"Toby is right here," Toby fumed, "I'm hardly a part of the furnishing, you know. And why would I spit in your face? You said some horrible things; I burned a few photos. It was years ago. All good, now."

"He did mention that you two broke up with strong resentment," Jareth remarked, patting Toby's shoulder in mock sympathy, "But haven't we all at one time or another."

'_Watch it,_' Toby warned silently, '_You're laughing at me again._'

Elaine didn't hear a word of Toby's irritated reaction. She didn't need to. She could read people better than most gave her credit for. She sensed things. And she sensed that Jareth was enjoying a private joke that Toby didn't share and that she didn't choose to acknowledge. But the appraising stare from those mismatched eyes- and boy, but she was caught by those furiously wild eyes- told her that Jareth already had her measure.

She pretended to remember the list and pointed it out in an embarrassed way- "I'm sorry. I think I'm distracting the two of you. I'll let you go, now, but it was great meeting you again, Toby. I wasn't here the last time you came back, so I'm hoping we'll meet up again soon. If I can ask, how long do you plan to stay this time?"

"A few weeks," Toby approximated with a wave of his hand, "About three, I'd say. The kids have to get back to England to get ready for school."

"Kids?" Elaine looked amazed now. "You have kids?"

For some reason she looked at Jareth, still calmly standing behind Toby with his basket at his feet and a knowing smirk hovering over his thin lips. The light shadow of stubble on his face gave him a singularly scruffy look, but it somehow didn't seem too wrong on his strong features. She wondered why; most pretty men didn't look too good like that. Though Jareth wasn't pretty in the conventional sense.

"… two," Toby was saying. She hurriedly snapped her attention back to him as he paused. The flash of wary mistrust in those familiar blue eyes settled her mind. She smiled at him encouragingly. "I have a son. Aidan. Jareth has two girls. They're friends."

"Wow. That's a good thing, then. I have a little daughter, about eight. She's all excited this year because Santa's going to get her a bike and a computer game."

"Really?"

"No! Well, the bike, yes. But no more computer games. God, the kids these days! Toby, do you remember being as mad about computers as our kids are? I mean, I remember surfing and downloading things and chatting and stuff, but I never spent hours on it the way Celia does."

"Celia?" Toby grinned suddenly. "Is her name Celia?" Elaine's blush answered his question. "You've always wanted to name your kid that if you had a girl. You told me that at the beach."

"Yes," Elaine said tartly, "Right before you told me you never wanted kids… ever!" She looked at Jareth with a frustrated expression. "You have no idea how much trouble this guy gave me. I swear I let him get away with crap that I would kill anyone else for even attempting. Point in case- we went to the beach for a romantic walk and I told him all about how I pictured this perfect life with a dog and a house and two kids, the names of which I had already thought of, and this prick turned around and said I could bloody well have them with someone else because he didn't want kids! Can you beat that?"

Jareth thought back to the passionate child he knew, the lover who hated what he loved and loved it anyway because of who did those things to him, the husband who savagely adored their three kids. "Actually, no, I can't," he said.

Toby calmed his ruffled feelings, not quite knowing where to look because Elaine insisted on discussing their long-gone relationship right in front of his- admittedly secret- husband. "It was a long time ago," he ended, "At fifteen, who does want kids?"

Elaine ceded the point with good grace. "I didn't help matters, did I? But that's what you get if you date a girl only bothered with the latest fashions. Anyway, I've got to go. Oh! If you guys have the time, I'm having a few friends over to my place this evening for dinner. If you'd like to come, you'd be very welcome."

Toby looked at Jareth as a matter of course. The Goblin King shrugged and gestured to him to make the decision. So Toby tried to decide. "Not this evening, Elaine, sorry. We just got in today. But if you're free any other evening, why don't we go out somewhere?"

A brilliant smile was directed his way and he noticed that the chipped tooth that had been a trademark of that smile was now capped and fixed. "An evening out sounds good. I'll call. You're staying at your mom and dad's place, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Just call there and we'll arrange something. Knowing Mom, she'll offer to cook. You know her!"

Elaine laughed and settled her bag firmly on her shoulder, half-turned and ready to leave. "If she makes steak, I'll say yes and camp on the doorstep. It was nice meeting you, Jareth. I'll see you both later. Bye!"

And she was gone.

Toby watched her walk away and was acutely perturbed to find he found nothing attractive in the gentle sway of her hips and the grace of her lithe body. He wasn't attracted to her. And at the ball in the Underground, he hadn't found any of the females overtly attractive either. The males barely even registered, as per usual, but he liked women. He was attracted to them. What was up now?

"Come on, fellow shopper. We have work to do."

Now he was watching another blond walk away. And glory of glories, it was actually very attractive.


	26. Rock n' Roll With Me

Disclaimer: I do not own the song 'Rock n' Roll With Me'. It's a fabulous song from the fabulous 'Diamond Dogs' album and I only use it here as a humble tribute to an artist and a genius.

Author's Note: I know it's long, but I felt you guys deserved it. Hope you had a great Christmas and I hope you have a great New Year.

---------------------------------------------

The song had been playing for far too long. Over and over and it still didn't sound right. The garage was thankfully sound proofed, but Jareth was beginning to feel his fingers itch. What was more, there was a spare guitar lying by the left wall- just under the tools- and he had a few ideas in his head that were driving him wild.

The second guitarist, supposedly in the act of carrying out the basic melody, screeched badly out of tune.

It was like having a needle driven through the most horrendously sensitive points of his body again. "Harvey, may I suggest something?"

The boy looked pathetically grateful. "They're making me crazy," he whispered, "Please tell them you hate the way it sounds and you think we should change it."

The Goblin King smiled a knowing little smile. "Hand me that guitar and get rid of your friend there and you have a deal."

The rest of the afternoon passed as a blur. The clock sped as if the white hand was pushing time faster and ever faster. The sun set early as was its wont in the cold season and the snow-laden clouds gathered overhead. One by one the dazed band members left, leaving two males talking technique and embellishment in a huddle over an acoustic guitar and a pile of papers.

"Your lyrics are fine…"

"I hated that line. But I want the rhythm left in…"

"Maybe if you had a slide here instead of a lick…"

"Deeper bass on this part…"

"Know someone who plays the horn…?"

"Know someone who plays the sax…"

"Even better! Bring it in here…"

"No! That part's fine… here…"

"… got to be kidding! Best part of the whole sodding song right here and the brat wants to change it…"

"Fuck off! This is not open for discussion…"

"Won't even listen…"

"Stubborn old…"

"Watch your tongue, whelp, or you might lose it…"

"Oooh! This part here! Brian never gets it right…"

"Change your drummer, mate. Other one's no good…"

"… shift Vin to the drums… no good on lead…"

"Ever tried lead…?"

"Don't have the talent…"

A nod from the dirty blond head and Jareth brushed his hair out of his eyes once more. The longish strands were silky fine and swept in maddening waves on his neck, too short to do anything with and too long to stay out of the way. It pissed him off. But it still looked good.

The scrawling, arrogant hand drifted quickly across the heavily laden papers, crossing out notes and then adding new ones. The light from the tiny window had died, leaving the naked bulb in the centre and the tube-lights over the workbench as the only sources of illumination in the tidy place.

Which made no difference. Jareth had seen this process done in the most inopportune moments of time. Some of the best work he had ever heard had been written when the artists were so hampered by their environments, their music was their only escape.

Harvey's agile fingers moved over the keyboard or the guitar, his voice humming out bars or trying new words in his mouth. Jareth simply acted as a catalyst, drawing more and more out of the boy and then prodding and poking it to twist the information into a shocking result.

Dinner came far too quickly and Ben found them still furiously working, two voices rising in harmony and the Goblin King sitting in his garage without the irritation of his glamour, black and grey clothing in poetic disarray as he swept the instruments into playing magically all by themselves so Harvey could test his new musings.

"Not now, Dad. We'll be there in a minute," Harvey grunted.

Jareth shrugged at Ben. "If we get too hungry, I'll get us some food," he compromised, "Will that do?"

Ben didn't bother to fight it. "Have it your way. Toby's back, by the way."

Interest dragged instantly away from the mayhem as mismatched eyes refocused on the man. "How is he?" Jareth questioned. He didn't believe that anything bad would have happened because he would feel it and Toby would call. But, as he'd once told Archer, there were times when his little bond mate was more likely to run scared than see sense.

"He seems very happy with the visit," Ben replied, "Said he had a great time and there'd been a lot to catch up on."

Jareth nodded and went back to his musings. Harvey was grinning like an imbecile and punching the air, so he assumed that something had come right. "Right. What have you fucked up now?" the half-goblin asked mockingly.

If Ben found the Goblin King's language unnecessarily coarse, he never mentioned it. Instead, he wisely left them alone and joined his annoyed wife at the dinner table. Cassie and her friends had taken Arradine and Aidan out dancing and Ereditha was sleeping over with Elaine's daughter, so it was just the five adults. Indeed, Ben realized that if he hadn't been sitting right there, it would be only the Williams' family once more.

The thought seemed to have occurred to the others as well, because the conversation was slightly stilted.

Ben gave up. There was just one thing to do in a situation such as this- "You know, I have a wonderful bottle of red wine for anyone who wants some. I think we can all do with a drink."

The bottle came out- looking like any other bottle- and was duly uncorked and poured into glasses with a generous hand and distributed. It was drunk.

And the next bottle was opened…

"They have no idea?" Karen gasped, glass in her hand and her blue eyes wide, "How ridiculous are they?"

Toby snorted and licked the cream from his spoon. "People don't get it unless you spell it out for them. They thought I lived in London and worked in security! They honestly did! And Harmony told me that it was so great what I was doing for Jareth."

Sarah seemed to find that the most amusing. "If she only knew!"

Toby dissolved into laughter as well and Harold sobered up enough to frown distastefully- "Damn it all, we know well enough about you two! We don't want to hear any more!"

"I do," Sarah countered shamelessly, "What are you giving Jareth for Christmas?"

"Something special," Toby replied mysteriously, gulping wine with a Cheshire cat smirk.

"Like what?"

"I'll give you a hint- it's metal. And it ties him hand and foot to my whims."

"Eeew!"

"Toby, give it a rest, son."

"But it does!"

"God, you two and your games. You're lucky my granddaughter survived that habit." Karen stood up and left her blushing son to pile the dishes into the dishwasher.

Toby looked down at the ring on his left hand. He'd only recently begun to wear it, Armand having returned it to Jareth with a stony apology and stiff diplomacy. He remembered getting it the first time and it was a bittersweet memory to him.

"The only actual gift he's given me," the mortal murmured, holding the ruby stone to the light, "And he never actually gave it to me. He meant to; it was tradition. It's given to the monarch's consort with the birth of the first child and heir. But Arradine had colic so he threw it at me and went back to rubbing her tummy."

Ben took the ring from him and looked at it, tracing over the winding spiral of flexible silver that moved like rubber. "What's the metal?"

"Daas hira," Toby supplied, "Water silver. Really expensive armour for the nobles or the rich is made from this stuff. It's just normal silver, but they treat it with something. Only three races knew how to make it- the elves, the dwarves and the river sprites. Only the river sprites make it now. This ring is priceless in the Underground for what it symbolizes."

"What does it symbolize," Harold asked, curious. He had the feeling that he would not want to know, but facts were facts and he didn't shrink from them.

"It symbolizes the event of a successful birthing," his son said wryly, "The words in the band are an avowal of approval and legitimacy. The runes in the stone are for fertility. Sarah, you'll be happy to know that the word for fertility and peach are the same in the Old Language."

"Ah! That explains his Royal Majesty's fascination for that bloody fruit." She raised an exuberant, if somewhat sloppy, hand to toast the person in question's health before downing the entire glass. Her husband firmly took it away after that.

But Toby had to have the last laugh on this one. "Actually, he just likes sucking the juice from the peaches."

"Eeeew!"

"Let it go, Toby."

"We really didn't want to know, dear."

"But it's true!"

Sarah growled and threw an orange at him. It missed him by a mile, his reflexes moving him far away from the edible missile before it struck. In answer, he stuck his tongue out and had to dodge another flying orange. The fruit seemed strangely inclined to migrate in his sister's house.

"So you're getting him handcuffs, huh. Kind of pointless, I'd think."

Blue eyes blinked in innocent horror. "Who said anything about handcuffs? I do not go around buying handcuffs!"

"You bought a whip," Ben pointed out, "You spent ages searching for just the right one!"

"That was for Fiorle," Toby protested, "His old one is frayed. Honestly! If it's not Jareth thinking I'm sleeping with all and sundry, it's someone else thinking I let my husband whip me! And then get off on it! Thank you very much, but the only stripes on my back were gotten unwillingly!"

That effectively dried off the mood.

Karen opened her mouth to say something but closed it again, turning her face away to stare out the window. Ben and Sarah had exchanged glances and were now both diverting themselves by clearing up. Harold sipped cautiously at the remainder of his wine and stared straight ahead. None of them liked to remember the last time Toby had been in the Aboveground.

"Look, it's no big deal, okay? It happened. I'm sorry I brought it up."

"Rubbish," Karen sighed, smiling brightly at him, "It was just a statement. You don't have to apologize."

"No, I know you don't want to think about it…"

"The scars haven't faded?" his father interrupted quietly.

Toby bit his lip and contemplated lying. It never worked with his dad. Harold could spot his lie in an instant. "A lot haven't," Toby admitted, touching his stomach, "I still have the knife scars and the whip marks. Very little else, though. I'm lucky."

"Nightmares?"

"Not so often." He could say that with rare conviction. He didn't get nightmares so often any more. Archer didn't always appear in his dreams, now, but some hallucinations were to be expected. He'd spoken to Lorelei and the dwarf healer had told him the nightmares would exist for as long as Archer's magic or spirit traces continued to haunt the Castle. And the Castle had seen the fae nobleman for a long time. Nevertheless, the nightmares were fading.

"Jareth must be good for you, then." Ben's joke was a weak one, but it was effective.

The Goblin King's consort leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh. "He's never seemed to care about either scars or nightmares. The only one he even notices any more is the one here." He touched his stomach. "He doesn't like the fact that I put a knife in myself."

"I don't like the fact," Karen said bluntly, "Neither does your father or your sister. I can't even imagine how you would believe death was better than letting us help you."

Sarah made hasty shushing noises and Toby chose to ignore that. There were too many things to think about other than what had happened eighteen years ago. The ring on his finger told him that there had been other trials faced and beaten down. The way his body moved told him he'd learned to cope with them. No, life had not been fair to him; it had been downright hostile. But life had given him compensations.

'_It all depends, my elf, on how you behave in the next three weeks…_'

Oh, Toby remembered those words. It had been hard not to.

'_We can be just friends to those who don't know. I do not care._'

And he remembered those too. Well, he'd behaved badly. After everything they'd been through, he'd baulked at introducing Jareth as his lover. Something so simple! Surely after three children, a kidnapping, a rescue, a wedding, those long nights of slow passion, it should have been easy to say, "Guys, I'd like you to meet the man I'm living with. We've been together since I was sixteen and he's the reason I didn't finish high school. I love him."

It should have been easy.

But it really wasn't. In high school, he'd been straight. He'd dated a cheerleader and while he'd been a loner, he'd always been welcomed easily enough into every circle on campus except for the intellectuals. He just couldn't work up an interest in studies. Even sports, much as he hated it, was alright because he had every American boy's basic grounding in football, basketball and baseball. Elaine had dragged him to all the latest parties. He'd been known, even if quietly and in a vaguely mysterious kind of way.

And now he was gay. He liked to spread his legs for another man. He didn't do anything except wait on Jareth's pleasure and care for the mundane affairs of the Castle or the Goblin City and care for the three children they raised. He was nothing more than a glorified housewife. Him! He who had argued semantics and philosophy as a matter of course; he who had made a career out of leaving sketches and quick drawings behind him wherever he went. And now the mystery was stripped away. And he was just Jareth's little fuck-toy. That was all.

The Goblin King had had lovers during the ten years they'd spent apart. He'd admitted to having slept with a few wished-aways and even a goblin serving woman when he'd been so royally drunk he couldn't even crawl on his own. But they'd all been one-night-stands and Toby hadn't had the heart to grudge his lover that relief.

Therefore, it was to be expected that there would probably be other times in the unknown future when Jareth would find his release with someone else. Toby wouldn't ever leave the Underground, but the threat of not being enough was an ugly one.

To be fair, Jareth himself had never supported it. He was every thing that was loving. As he had promised, when Toby placed himself body and soul into Jareth's hand, Jareth did everything in his power to make him happy. The Goblin King seemed genuinely willing to turn the world upside down for his bond mate. No one could be more attentive, more romantic, more fun to be around.

But that was when Toby was useful to him. How long before they slept in separate bedrooms again? And there would be no more joyful little children to meld their relationship into something stronger; at least not from Toby's body. Ereditha's birth had been so horrendous that Lorelei said he'd either never conceive again or would miscarry if he did. His mortality could only adapt in certain ways.

So what was he to do?

"Toby, what does Ereditha's name mean?" Sarah.

He focused his eyes on his sister and squinted, as if trying to see her down a long, dark tunnel. "Sorry?"

"Ereditha. We know Arradine means Dusk, and I know why Jareth named her that. We know Aidan was named for Jareth's grandfather or great-grandfather or something. But Ereditha… you never told us."

The tunnel settled back to reality. Toby grinned and yawned behind his hand, taking his time to get to the explanation. "Ereditha was a Goddess in the Past Age. The Underground doesn't hold with religion any more, but she used to be very important."

"Have some coffee. What was she the Goddess of?"

"Hope," Toby revealed, "Legend has it that it was the Goddess Ereditha who first created the Cosmic Equation. In the Pre-Dawn days, both this world and the Underground were joined as one realm. And everyone lived in peace. Only the mortals began to get petty and argumentative. So the Gods split the realms, hoping to keep the immortals- their favourites- free from the bad influence of us mortals. Ereditha opposed this. She said that evil was an infection that knew no bounds and it had merely found a weak target in mortals and we were to be pitied, not shunned, because of it. Anyway, long story short, she created the Cosmic Equation in order that immortals could form a perfect relationship without the hassle of fickle emotion. She wove magic so that it would find a rest in togetherness, and originally those bonded were formally bound because that was how Ereditha intended it."

"So Ereditha brought hope to the Underground," Sarah sighed, "By creating ways that two people could find perfect happiness and balance?"

"Yes. It's not quite as romantic as all that, though, because- as I can testify- the intensity of the relationship was too much for volatile magical creatures, so they simply stopped it happening. They split bonds and formal bindings. The best way to describe it is by comparing it to sex and marriage up here- you can marry someone, but you don't need to have sex only with your spouse. In the Underground, you can be formally bound to someone, but you don't have to bind with them."

A loud singing was gradually growing closer and so the five in the room quietened down and weren't surprised to see Harvey burst in, bright-eyed and red with cold, covered with a fine dust of snow. "I'm hungry," he announced, breaking off in mid-lyric.

"How'd the song go?" Sarah called out. She'd not liked the fact that Harvey wanted to hold band practise in her garage two days before Christmas for no apparent reason, but she was willing to be supportive. The youth really did live for his music.

"Man, Jareth's been a great help. Now, if I can get a decent band, I'm all set," her son shouted back, head thrust into the recesses of her fridge as he foraged for food. "Where'd everyone go?"

"Cassie took them out dancing," Toby called back, getting to his feet and waiting for his vision to settle and his blood to stop dancing. Three bottles of wine could have that effect.

His nephew raised an eyebrow and chortled. "If she's trying to set them up with dates, she'd going to have a hard time. She doesn't know anyone gay and Aidan sure isn't going to find a guy in one of Cassie's nightclubs! Arradine, maybe, but not Aidan. Hope he likes dancing a lot."

Toby grinned and tapped his head. "I'm smart, doofus. Why'd you think I said yes? I know Cassie's friends. That girlfriend of yours was offering to set ME up with someone!"

"Oh! Speaking of which," Harvey said casually, "Jareth's still in the garage. He said to let you know where he was. He said he'll be late tonight. Should I know why?"

"No, you should not," Karen said sharply, "Now stop being cheeky and get out of here. Your friends left a message for you on the phone."

A resounding kiss on the cheek and the woman tsked briskly as her grandson leapt away in a very good humour. Toby only made a vague farewell and told his parents to go home without him. "If it's okay with Sarah and Ben, I'll stay with Jareth for a while."

They nodded.

Toby left. The snow was just beginning to fall and the wind had picked up, flinging the flakes into his face with a taunting hand. But the garage wasn't more than a few steps away and what Toby heard made him smile. It wasn't what Harvey had been working on, but something completely different:

"_You always were the one that knew… they sold us for the likes of you… I always wanted new surroundings… a room to rent… while the lizards lay crying in the heat…_"

Lizards? Well, that was a first! It sounded like something Jareth had written a while ago. But something about this song had different cadences to anything else Toby had ever heard before. It was very definitely a mortal song quite apart from the language used, but it also carried a very personal feel. A kind of raw power that had been refined without losing any of its meaning. Very much like Jareth's magic.

"_When you rock n' roll with me… no one else I'd rather be… Nobody here can do it for me… I'm in tears again… when you rock n' roll with me…_"

The mortal paused and shivered as the music hit a crescendo and then smashed back down. Like the waves in a storm. Like making love. Only Jareth's arms were always there for that drop. And just like those time, his voice picked up once more, soothing and caressing back to safety.

"_Gentle hearts are counted down… the queue is out of sight and out of sounds… me, I'm out of breath but not quite doubting… I've found a door which lets me out…_"

No, Toby agreed silently, still standing outside the garage and listening, no more doubts now. He'd told Elaine and his old friends. A few had been shocked. A few thought it was all a barrel of laughs. They'd all get over it and if they didn't, he wouldn't care. Because, yes, he was going back to a place he loved with people he loved. So what did all this matter? Not a thing, so long as his bond mate kept singing with that raw silk voice and a mouthful of dreams.

"_When you rock n' roll with me… no one else I'd rather be… nobody down here can do it for me… I'm in tears again… when you rock n' roll with me…_"

God, that crescendo again! Toby's ears were burning and his heart pounded in his chest. He found himself running his hands over the door, unable to open it because this was something too private for even him to witness without invitation, but unable to walk away because he needed that comfort once more. How had his King done this to him? How could he break him apart with a simple song or a few words? Only Jareth. God, but he loved his husband!

He let out a silent cry of need and the door swung open almost instantly, Jareth's arms wrapping around him like a warm blanket, cloaking him from the cold.

The words were gone but the music continued. He was pulled inside and held. That hadn't ever happened for him before- to just be held for forever and a day. The instruments continued to play by themselves.


	27. Wedding Rings

Author's Note: This is it. With this last chapter for 'A Universally Accepted Fact', thus ends the story. I hope this chapter is a fitting end to something I know I've worked so hard over, and for what all of you have been so kind to review. I'd like to thank all of you for all the beautiful things you've said to me about my work and I'd really like to thank each and every one of you for your continued support of this fiction. There are those who've been there for ages, and there have been those who've joined us fairly late. Unfortunately I've also lost a few reviewers (I think), but that's just life, isn't it? I'll send out personal thank yous as soon as I can.

Author's Note: I don't know if people even want to know, but unfortunately, I also have a few ideas as to how I want the sequel to this fiction to go. It will still contain at least Jareth (Toby might be dead), but it will focus primarily on the three children. What do you think? I don't want overkill either and I like how this ends.

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The Goblin King relaxed on his stone seat and stretched, yawning wide enough to break his jaw as the droning formality of the document in his hand threatened to put him to sleep. He lifted his left hand to rub his heavy eyes and caught the glint of dull gold. Stopping to smile at it, he was very aware of his daughter laughing at him from her seat opposite him.

"Something amuses you, Arradine?" he asked casually.

The girl's blue eyes danced evilly even as her pretty face stayed pleasantly blank. "Nothing at all, Father," she replied demurely, "I was merely considering Sutton's proposal to rebuild the old water mill in the south. It seems pointless."

"Pointless or not, Sutton does argue convincingly," Jareth sighed. He swung his legs up and settled his long body into the contours of the throne. The eerie silence was getting on his nerves. But he refused to admit- even on pain of death- that he missed his 'advisers'. Those drunkards and imbeciles had been a source of seething irritation for every year of his rulership. And now he itched to have their intoxicated antics brought back into his squeaky-clean throne room.

"Is something wrong, Father?"

"Hmmm? Oh. Nothing, my dear." He found himself examining his Christmas present again. "Tell me- the relationship between yourself and Lord Zaraith. Have I reason to consider cautioning you?"

The heir to the Goblin Kingdom raised a dark eyebrow and stiffened in her chair. She'd taken the trouble to dress in the appropriate garb of her station for the morning and the cream gown looked distinctly good on her curves. It was giving her father palpitations.

"We are bond mates," she replied warily, "Why?"

"Your dad is a little suspicious."

"I see."

Mismatched eyes glanced briefly at her and then glanced away. A flick of the fingers and a crystal was in his hands. "As am I. But I am prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt. Just how serious are you?"

"We are not serious," Arradine growled, aggrieved at getting the inquisition. "Lord Zaraith has been everything that is proper and gentlemanly and while some of us may have no control of our- our passions, certain of us do!"

The Goblin King flicked her the crystal and then nodded, swinging his legs down to the floor. "Point taken," he agreed, "But the question stands as it does- how serious are YOU, my dear. The draconite was never in question."

"The water mill…"

"Will never be rebuilt until my people ask me for it," Jareth finished matter-of-factly, "Do you mean to fall in love with him?"

Arradine sat back, her mouth thinned with obstinacy. She wasn't very inclined to talk about such matters with her friends, let alone with her father. And she was a little suspicious as to what Jareth would ask of her. "Not yet," she settled on.

"In that case some rules need to be set down." Jareth got out of his seat and began to pace, the white-feathered cape swaying gently against the backs of his calves. "I won't ask for a detailed account of your sex life, and you are free to sleep with whom you choose. On one condition- it will be discreet. If you require contraceptives, go to Lorelei. And for the Gods' sake, do not attempt to play games with people who will create more trouble than they are worth!"

Arradine was white with suppressed shock. "You are the King of the Goblins," the Princess eventually murmured, "Your word is law." An uneven lock of silver-blond hair was tugged in absent nervousness.

Jareth softened. It couldn't be pleasant having to have this conversation. Good sense told him that the girl hadn't really thought this far ahead. And his precise instructions had sounded rather cold. He stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing lightly in understanding.

"I only want your happiness, my dear. If Zaraith will make you happy, I will not oppose it."

A tragic little sniff was barely audible in the stone room. But the sound echoed from wall to wall. "Thank you. He- he would make a powerful ally, would he not?"

Jareth laughed softly and kissed the top of her head. "Quite beside the point. I don't believe you will find happiness with him, but I will let you decide that for yourself."

Blue eyes blinked up at him. "Why not?" Arradine demanded, "If I were to fall in love- and I don't say it will happen- and if he were to love in return- which I won't say will happen- what would be wrong with that? We are compatible." Suddenly she found herself on the defensive. It was not as if she were actually planning to snare the Draconite Lord as a lover or mate or anything; but she resented being told that it was impossible anyway.

"Yes, yes, you are a Child of the Night and the draconite is of the Sun; very convenient. But that is not all that weighs with a good relationship. Do you respect him?"

"Yes!"

"Do you genuinely like him? For a relationship based on desire alone is an affair and not a marriage."

"I enjoy our time together."

Jareth took his time- "Does he respect you?"

Ah. The question. Did he? Arradine believed he liked her well enough. He seemed to enjoy talking to her. But he never flirted with her. He was never clear with his thoughts. She couldn't read admiration in his eyes at her dress and his body language said no more than that he was not quite repulsed by her presence. But respect… she amused him.

"Arradine, it seems to me that he sees you as a child, someone too young to of potential interest in any adult way. He wishes you well, but he doesn't see himself involved in your future."

"And how would you know," she shouted, springing to her feet with an insulted blush on her face, "You can't possibly know a thing about his thoughts."

The Goblin King didn't rise to the bait. Instead he looked regretful and confident. "There are things," he told her, "That one learns to see in another's face. If it were merely my opinion, I'd keep well out of this. But your dad asked me to speak with you."

"Dad thinks so too?" She looked instantly crestfallen.

"He thinks you should take things slowly. Zaraith is not someone to trifle with, Arradine. His last bond mate died protecting him at the hands of goblin soldiers. His wings were ripped from his dying carcass and pinned to our gates in victory. He wouldn't hold a grudge against you, personally, but I don't think he'd forget that in a hurry."

Arradine bowed her head and sniffed again. Jareth stayed away from her this time. She needed the time to compose herself and he was too experienced with his emotions to believe that she would appreciate any attempt to sooth her. Likely she'd unleash her magic in a sudden rage and that would only hurt someone.

He studied her, sitting straight-backed in her elegant gilt chair, the golden streaks in her silver-blond hair glinting beneath the soft light of the winter's morning. Pale, fair skin with warm pink tinges in the hollows of her cheeks and her neck. Properly positioned hands clasped in her cream lap. No jewellery, no accessories of any kind, except a pair of startlingly deep rubies in her ears- she had trained very well under him. He was grateful for that.

Jareth freely gave his permission when she asked to be excused. Arradine was a fighter. If she felt unable to continue, it meant she was on the brink of tears. Well, then, the half-goblin decided, let her cry. One good bout of weeping and it would be over.

Only he wasn't so sure.

The document in his hand was tossed distastefully to the floor and he strode out the door to find his own bond mate. Down to the kennels where Toby was meant to be over-seeing the housing of a new litter of the bear-like creatures that played the canine role in the Underground. But the round, furry things were settled and Toby wasn't to be seen. A goblin informed him that the mortal Lord had returned to the Castle, meaning to get his knives for practise with the young Prince. But Aidan was alone in the grounds and was sitting in a particularly pensive state on a bench, gently tracing some memory on his lips and staring with perturbed concentration at a patch of virgin snow.

And that had been happening far too often. Jareth made to turn- he wasn't in the mood to cope with two such conversations- but let out a sigh and turned around. His conversation with Toby could wait. Aidan seemed in some kind of revelatory fit.

The snow crunched with satisfying crispness beneath his boots. A brilliantly gold snowbird circled lazily overhead, baying like a bloodhound for the grubs that it fed on. Taking the most public path, Jareth made sure his son saw him well in advance, giving him the chance to make his excuses or decide how best to evade the queries. It was only fair.

"Well?" he asked, finally reaching Aidan's side and sitting down, "Tell me all about it."

"There is nothing to tell."

A dark eyebrow rose. The young immortal was going to be lying, then. Jareth didn't like lies Evasions, yes, but not lies. "I don't believe you."

The soft mouth twitched at the corners, the same tip-tilted smile that Jareth had been hoping to encounter in someone else. "You rarely do," came the answer, "I can't think why."

"Perhaps because you have been too silent since Christmas," Jareth pointed out, "Did something happen? Were you insulted or harmed in some way?"

Aidan tossed him a withering glance. "Father, I am capable of killing someone in the Aboveground should they try to harm me. Short of a mad psychopath with a gun, I can protect myself from anything."

The Goblin King could think of someone else who had had that same confidence in their ability to protect themselves. Of course, his bond mate hadn't had the fighting ability then that Aidan had now. Oh, but Toby had made sure his children knew how to defend themselves; his own confidence had been corroded far too badly for him to let that happen to their children.

The Prince put out a hand and picked up a handful of snow, carelessly forming it into a ball before using his slowly emerging magic to frost the surface.

Jareth applauded politely and accepted the gift with good grace. "You're changing the topic," he reminded him, "Now, I have very little time left so I advise you to confess the truth now, or face the consequences."

"And what would those consequences be?" Aidan asked, smirking a little.

"I will be forced to… press the issue? A trip into your mind will not be so hard to arrange."

"You wouldn't!"

The frosted snow ball was gently being sculpted with rare flowers. "No, I wouldn't. But you look like you can use someone to talk to." Jareth handed the completed snow sculpture back to his son with a smile. "If it is something too private, I will not pry. Just tell me that this is neither life-threatening, nor something I would disapprove of."

Aidan shrugged. His black attire was simple enough to rival his father's choice of wardrobe, but of a completely different style. Where Jareth liked silks and chiffons, Aidan liked cotton and linen and a smooth, thick fabric of the Underground known as fogcloth. Where the Goblin King wore revealing shirts and breeches, Aidan's tunics were long waisted and long sleeved, the trousers fitted but not skin-tight. His hair was never allowed to fall loose to his shoulders and he rarely used feathers or jewellery even on formal occasions.

Jareth was getting the feeling that for all Aidan's dependence on him, the boy would be more difficult to handle than the two girls. They were essentially rational creatures; Aidan had an irrational, tempestuous streak allied with a secretive nature. The years ahead were liable to prove difficult for them.

"I don't think you will quite disapprove," Aidan murmured, "It might worry you. It worries me."

Jareth shifted on his seat just a little. "In what way?" He really did want to hurry this conversation up; he wanted to check on his lover before night fell. It was a new quirk of his.

Slender fingers clasped and unclasped before burying themselves in thick, golden hair. "I may not precisely be attracted solely to men," Aidan admitted, "I kissed one of Cassie's friends that night. I- I didn't quite mean to, but she was- what was the mortal term for it- coming on to me, and the situation got out of hand."

Dual-coloured eyes blinked. Jareth swallowed a laugh and kept a tight hold on the serious look on his face. It would be just his luck for him to burst out laughing and make the poor child feel even more mixed up! "That seems confusing. Did you like her?"

"She seemed a very nice sort of girl."

The half-goblin wondered how many other youths of sixteen used quite that line to describe a girl. "A- a nice girl. I see. But she was coming on to you?"

The golden bird dipped down suddenly on a worm and they turned to look for a second before Aidan refocused. "Father, if you mean to laugh at me, this conversation is over! If you must know, she was dressed like a prostitute and Cassie assured me she wasn't a virgin. Does that make much difference?"

"If you had gone through with it, I might have a few things to say, but it was a simple kiss." A sudden idea struck and the Goblin King looked suitably horrified. "It was, wasn't it? Just a kiss?" He had visions of being a grandfather and they were not pleasant. He could just imagine having to appear to the girl and tell her exactly what kind of family he would force her to marry into.

"Just a kiss. But I enjoyed it. Is that so wrong?" Aidan was looking upset again.

Jareth tried to think of how to phrase what he had to say without sounding patronizing. It was hard work being an active parent. He was just beginning to find that out. "Luv, you're sexual preferences are not determined from the day you are born. No one has the right to tell you whether something is wrong or right. Being attracted to women is just as acceptable as being attracted to men. Being attracted to both certainly has its advantages. Both your dad and I feel the same."

Aidan wrinkled his nose for a second in thought. "But I have never been attracted to a female… ever. This was the first time. Even my- my dreams are- are about men. Why now?"

"Your dad was only ever attracted to women," Jareth pointed out, "He had a girlfriend in the Aboveground and they acted as any normal teenaged couple would act. The point is, there is no shame in being attracted to someone. And anyhow, perhaps you were reacting to the music and the atmosphere more than to the girl you were with."

"I've already thought of that," Aidan sighed, "It doesn't help."

Jareth gave up. "Aidan, there is no wrong or right desire. If your urges don't prompt you to kill or hurt someone, or to indulge in something that you know is actually wrong, then what harm is there? You're young. You're growing. You are going to want to experiment and please, for the love of the Gods, don't tell me about that! But it is only natural."

"So you're saying that I shouldn't worry about this?"

The Goblin King stood up, pulled his son up with him and shoved the boy in the general direction of the Castle. "Let me put it to you this way- with your age and the state of your hormones, you could get aroused by almost anything in this universe. Girl or boy, it won't matter too much to you at this age if all you have to do is shut your eyes and take what pleasure you're given."

Aidan snorted and kicked at a snowy clump of shrub. "Thank you. I feel very comforted by that thought."

Jareth chuckled and said nothing, content to walk in companiable silence. He was completely unprepared for the sudden introduction of a new facet to the discussion.

"What was your first kiss like?"

His heart began to slow down to an ominous thudding and icy prickles slithered down his spine. "M- my first kiss? It's not something I'd like to talk about."

"Oh." The youth nodded, embarrassed and quick to understand why his father might not want to mention it. "I just wondered."

"Perfectly natural." Jareth risked a glance to the side. Aidan was biting his lip, clearly chastising himself for having brought the topic up. "It was completely charmless. The… male didn't exactly want to participate in what we were about to do, but hoped to comfort, or arouse me if it were possible. It didn't succeed and I was too petrified to respond to it."

"Oh."

"The second time went better. Archer told me that I might perhaps feel less pain if I relaxed and didn't fight it. He also just 'happened' to leave a very explicit book in my bedchamber. I believe Harvey gave you an Aboveground version of something similar? I thought so. There were different positions and various manoeuvres that I thought I would die rather than perform, particularly on the partner I had. But kissing someone, the book told me, was meant to be nice. So I tried it."

Aidan was fascinated. Jareth hated the entire conversation and felt nauseated by the very thought of the situation. But his son wanted to know. He couldn't think why; most of it wasn't a pleasant story and the rest of it was repulsive. But Aidan seemed genuinely interested in knowing, and never with any kind of ghoulish pleasure or wish to hurt. He just wanted to know.

"Father, may I ask you something?"

"I'm not sure I should say yes," Jareth replied seriously, "But I will. I reserve the right not to answer, however."

"If you don't want to tell me it's fine," Aidan was quick to promise, "But how did you spend two hundred years with- with Him, and have other lovers? Why would you need others if you were in love with someone?"

"It's simple. I was so young that sexual pleasure and filial respect translated into a sort of twisted love that I believed was real. I wanted to flaunt it but I was forbidden to openly display any hint of intimacy in public. So I chose others to openly display that affection to. They were aware that I was not truly interested in them. They served only to satisfy whatever impulses I was forbidden with my father. Does that answer your question?"

"It answers one part of it."

The Goblin King sighed in frustration and nodded impatiently. "What's the other part?" He was feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

"What makes Dad so different to everyone else?"

Jareth actually stopped and stared at Aidan incredulously, shocked that the boy couldn't see what was so perfectly obvious. The plain gold wedding ring on his left hand burned against his skin and he held it up to plain view. "This is why," he said, "My elf spent sixteen years of his life believing homosexuality to be wrong. Down here, in this fantasy world we call the Underground, it was all right to play a different a part, to turn himself inside out and play pretend. But he went back to that previous world where his urges for me were considered wrong and still chose to keep me as a part of his life. Why would I not love him for that?"

Aidan blushed and nodded to someone lounging in the entrance. "Hey, Dad," he said sheepishly.

Jareth whirled around and cursed. "Do you have to sneak up on people? Damned wolf!"

"So," Toby grinned, "You love me?"

The Goblin King lifted his chin and challenged his lover to keep up the teasing charade. "Have I claimed otherwise?"

Toby shook his head and laughed, reaching out his left hand where his own wedding ring gleamed. "Never," he agreed softly.

Jareth relaxed and took the hand in his, pulling his lover close. Close enough to smell, to kiss, to hold. A contented sigh told him that Toby was quite happy to have any of those things done to him. So Jareth did, and added more besides. They were too engrossed to even notice that Aidan was still there, a smirk on his tip-tilted mouth and a humorous gleam in his knowing blue eyes.

"Love you too," Toby whispered back, "I'm so glad you agreed to the rings."

"Could I possibly have said no?"

"You could have. You know it will really bind you to me. No more other lovers, Jareth; no separations and possible ways to escape. At least, not without a damned good reason why, first."

The Goblin King considered his options. He could have the small, golden little idol in his arms- all delicate bone and fragile ego; sunshine and fire- or he could live without. "I couldn't possibly ask for more," he agreed, swooping down to kiss his bond mate extremely hard for one more time, completely uncaring that they were in the Castle entrance, in plain view of the City and anyone else who cared to watch.


End file.
